Toby – Born 1984

Name: Toby

Born: 1984

Where Conceived: Bristol

I found out from my Grandfather who had Dementia. He said “You’ve been part of this family a long time and they love you” I think I replied with a confused look “Yeah they’re my family?”

Then he proceeded to tell me I was adopted or donor conceived. He couldn’t remember. My world just span and I walked out of there, knocking things over as I stumbled. I jumped in my car and looked back and it’s the only time I saw compassion from the man. I turned up at my parents uninvited and demanded answers to this. It was then that I was told I was donor conceived and my Dad wasn’t my biological Dad. My Mum tried to reassure me by saying that I was still part of her family, which angered me because it felt very selfish but I guess it’s difficult to know what to say to your child who you’ve lied to for 28 years.

That was it, this big life changing event. 28 years of lying over in an afternoon.

It tore me apart, I had so many conflicting emotions. Betrayal being a big part but then also guilt for feeling that way when I had them to thank for being there. I was lost and lonely, I couldn’t process the situation. I wanted to go “home”. Home now being this theoretical place rather than physical, I couldn’t return. A home sickness that was impossible to quench. Every conversation from 28 years about family, my childhood, my bloodline, what traits I got from what parent. It was now like looking back through a gritty filter that wasn’t true. The guilt was awful. I loved my Dad. I just wanted to be his son. I’d just had a son of my own and I was still reeling from that identity change.

Looking back now, I realise I went through a major identity crisis and it changed who I was as a person.

I needed to find out who my donor was but I also felt a huge amount of guilt for doing that but I was so lost.

Fast forward a few years and I’d managed to get some information out of my Mum but it wasn’t enough to work on. I’d submitted my DNA and the closest paternal matches were 5th cousins. I managed to get my Mum on board and she agreed to help me. She wanted to know who the man was who helped her and my Dad have a baby.

Sadly my Mum passed away and in my grief I randomly checked my DNA results again for new matches and found a paternal Uncle which was close enough that I could do the rest. I went 2 weeks to the day from losing my Mum to looking at a photo of my biological Father.

He was a Doctor but did a favour for a colleague in 1983. He matched a description the couple (my parents) gave to the fertility clinic. That was it. I spoke to my biological uncle and explained the situation who then treated me like I was some sort of dirty secret or affair child.

I eventually contacted my biological Father through LinkedIn and he gladly welcomed my contact. I explained I didn’t want a father but I wouldn’t say no to a friendship, of which he has more than accepted. I wish my Mum could have at least learned that he was a good man.

Only down side. He’s had hereditary male pattern baldness. Dammit!

I spent 28 years as this big lie that couldn’t come out for fear of what others would think and I was told not to tell anyone. This wasn’t their secret to keep anymore, it was mine. That messed with me, I had to keep up this lie. When people would see me and my Dad together and they’d comment how similar we looked, I’d have to lie. It ate away at me. I didn’t love or respect my Dad any less and neither would anyone else.

The lie now became part of me. It was my history and my identity to do what I wanted with now. Hence why I’m doing this. Owning it.