I shouldn’t (and don’t deserve) to feel alone.
I think it’s safe to say that up until this school year I never had a teacher that would move the class’ seats every two weeks so that we sat next to each individual in the room. It was nice really, we all got to know each other as people – it was brief, but the brevity wound up making all the difference. I don’t tell people I am donor conceived, I don’t advertise that I am an outcast, but I still manage to feel like nobody close to me grasps the same feelings that hit me harder than one could imagine. Weeks had passed, and finally the teacher rotated our seats yet again. She put me next to a girl I had never seen before. The girl introduced herself. It was weird right off of the bat that her last name sounded so familiar. I asked her why I would know that name and she sprung into a full explanation of how I probably knew her dad. It turned out that I did. I flashed back to him mentioning that he has two girls, I already knew he was gay. All of the feelings that rushed through me had paused. I felt like I wasn’t so alone. This girl sitting next to me was also conceived through an anonymous donor. We aren’t close, we just sit through class, sometimes laugh, sometimes make small talk. I so badly just want to jump out of my seat and ask, “Do you lose sleep at night too? Do you wonder where the biological half of you is in this exact moment? Do you hope that they think of you too? Do you ever just think about how big the universe is and how there is one human being that is a mystery to you, but at the same time is half of you? I wonder too, I really, really do.” But instead I stay quiet. She doesn’t know that my biological father is an anonymous donor and she doesn’t know that I am aware that her biological mother is an egg donor. Instead I just look at her and a sense of hope washes over me as I realize that my conception, just like hers, is not uncommon. Other people out there know what this entire scenario is like. I shouldn’t (and don’t deserve) to feel alone.