Why I Stay Quiet
“Why don’t you just talk to your mom about it?” they ask.
I shake with fear. How do you talk to your mom about how hurt you are when her effort, drive, and passion to have you brought into this world is the reason you can even speak? How do you sit someone down and essentially tell them that they are not enough of a “family” for you?
“It’ll crush her,” I say — because having to grasp the fact that her unconditional love left me unhappy and incomplete will be devastating.
This is the moment I feel my entire body tense up as they utter the all too familiar and famous words: “You should be grateful that she wanted you here so badly that she went through this whole process and literally payed to ensure she could love a child.”
Right then and there I question my entire thought process. Is it unethical or immoral for me to want to know where half of me comes from? Or is it better to just sit quiet knowing that your own mother intentionally hid half siblings from your reach, registering on sibling registries, viewing their information, letting accounts expire, and moving on silently as if it all never occurred? Am I not allowed to feel hurt or misplaced?
Don’t get me wrong I am so grateful to be put on this earth knowing that I was the product of love and effort, but I go to sleep every night and wake up every morning feeling lost. I will never know what it is like to play catch with a father at age 6. I will never know what it is like to bring a boy home, only to have a dad threaten them. I will never know what it is like to wake up on Father’s Day morning to anything other than my mom saying we should send a photo to the family to celebrate — only to have me say “there is no father to send this photo to”. I will never know what it is like to make eye contact with the man that is responsible for my existence. All I am left with is my unique olive complexion and my small nose. Those are the bits and pieces I can make out to be the pieces of me that have come from him, and while small or dumb, it all means the world.
How is someone so loved and thought of like me supposed to sit their mom down and tell her that they deserve more. I deserve to know my siblings. I deserve to feel like a part of something more than maternal DNA. I am more than grateful, I am determined; yet I am too frightened and upset to disappoint my mom. How can I just talk to her without turning our lives upside down or making her feel horrible? Even though she hid half of my family tree from me from the start when it came to siblings, I do not want to crush her with my emotional confusion.