One day, you know who you are. You know your family’s crazy history. You know the warts and all of it all. But then, in an instant, it’s all changed. Suddenly you feel like a massive chunk of you is missing.
This is how I felt the day I found out that my dad isn’t my biological dad. To be honest, I’d had questions for a few years – things I’d heard and pieced together – but I really didn’t think it held much weight. I figured I was being a drama queen, I’ll admit I can be a bit of drama queen at times. But no, this wasn’t some far-fetched notion anymore; it was the cold hard truth. It hit me like a slap in the face and knocked me into a state of confusion.
My mother had died a few days before I found out. My initial reaction was to be angry with her. She’d kept this secret from me for over 30 years. She’d watched me have my own children and never once did she utter the words. I was pissed. And while my mum had died suddenly, we also knew it was coming as she’d been told six months prior that she had about six months left to live. Knowing she had a limited time left on earth, why wouldn’t she tell me the truth? I had so many questions and the one person who could answer them all was gone.
Now I had to have uncomfortable conversations with friends and family members, in order to find any pieces of this puzzle to fit together and reveal my biological father. I have my own boys so now, there was a huge medical history that was missing and Mama Bear went into protective mode, wanting to protect my own kids. So, slowly I started making calls, asking who knew what. It amazed me at how many people actually knew this big, dark secret that had seemingly been only kept from my younger brother and myself. But it also seemed like none of them knew a lot. I grabbed at any iota of information they could give me and slowly started adding it all up. I found out he worked in a car yard when I was conceived. He and my mother broke up shortly after, so I don’t know if he even knows I exist.
Thanks to the wonders of the internet, and some information gleaned from my dad (non biological) where he worked in the 80s. We then found his name. I didn’t want to get excited thinking we’d found him, even though my gut was telling me it was him… We started doing some Facebook stalking and found his wife and children’s profiles (he isn’t on Facebook!). I found photos of his daughter and my brother told me that we had the same eyes… I didn’t believe him so I asked a few friends to see if they saw any similarities… They all said the eyes.
We’ve managed – by being ultra sneaky – to confirm he knew someone with my mother’s name, though he seemed to back track a little on the phone. Yes, that means we have his number. After a few days of searching, we’ve managed to pin him down as my father… Now I keep staring at his number; wondering what to do next.
If he has no idea I exist, then I’m about to rock his world. If he did know my mum was pregnant, has he always wondered about me? I have to tread so carefully because he has a family, who probably has no idea about my mother or me. I don’t want to cause problems for him. I don’t want to be a cause of upset. To be honest, I don’t even know if I want a relationship with him… To me, my dad is the man who I’ve thought of as my dad for 30 years. But I know I do want to know the medical side of it all. I have health issues that don’t come from my mother’s side of the family, so the answers must lay with him. I want to be knowledgeable about health issues so I can protect my own children.
So now I just stare at his number… Wondering what I could even say… Wondering how I even start a conversation like this. My grandmother told me that my mum told her that she didn’t want to tell me because I’d want to look for him. Yes Mum, you’re right and despite you not telling anyone his name, we’ve found him… Now just to make that first contact… this is the truly hard part.
Posted by chelseak, 11th August 2013