The donor told his son and granddaughter about me. For whatever reason, writing this is making me teary, in a good way.
Maybe it’s that preposition, “about”—it’s been used in so many sentences since I found out about my [DNA, father, etc.]. See, I just said it.
And then there were all the confrontations and discussions. “Who have you told about this?”
I feel like I’m a thing to be revealed, unveiled. The donor always knew I was born. My parents have always known I was donor conceived. And then 54 years later, there was a new round of revealing. Who to tell about it, what to tell them about it. I think about it, I talk about it, I feel differently about it.
There’s a me, and there’s an it, I guess. “It” is both the circumstances of my conception, and the actual discovery. The “me” is my very existence, and really only has meaning in context of the donor, just as the “it” only has meaning in the context of my understanding of my existence.
So, back to the “about”.
I had told the donor that it/me was discoverable, and in fact discovered, not just by me. I wanted him to know this so he could have as much ownership of the narrative as he wanted.
He wanted to tell some significant people in person and planned to do it this summer.
It happened, and he told me the story of his telling in a delightfully funny way. He’s playful. He and his wife drove their son and the granddaughter home from a restaurant that was far enough way that they were trapped in the car for a while, captive for the revelation. They were, of course, shocked, but pretty quickly told the donor and his wife it was a great story and they wanted to know about me (they internet stalked me in the car right after he told them!)
So I’m in touch with the donor’s son. There’s so much I could say here, but for now I’m keeping it as a prize, a treasure, an unexpected treat.
Not only does he seem like a solidly good dude, but he’s really, really funny, and a great writer. He’s uncommonly articulate and aware of his feelings, for a dude (I’m being sexist/genderist, I realize.) I probably shouldn’t write too much if I’m still attempting to keep this anonymous.
But, yay. A big yay. I am going to let myself enjoy this.