I woke up this morning to this. I had not yet even had a sip of coffee. Incredibly bad timing.
I have now had about 8 large gulps of cold press and I am recovered. Mostly.
I had never thought about the other relatives of my donor. His parents, his siblings. My donor grandparents, my donor aunts and uncles. It was a subtle ache.
And then I started to read the comment sections. Something I should recommit to never doing. I don't understand folks that try to narrow identity down to one thing. I am not sure why in questioning the use of anonymous sperm and yearning to know more someone might comment that your life could be taken away if you are not grateful.
I suppose, if I am being honest, that if a letter arrived at my door with the information about my donor I would not hesitate to open it. I do want to know. I want to know what he looked like, if his eyes are green or hazel or brown, if his amygdala is as active as my own. It is a question of identity. Because time is precious and scarce, I cannot devote my time to this effort.
But, I am still curious.
1 comment:
your post, and the unique trial you are faced with, well--they both leave me speechless. except to say that you are surely part of my family, and ican't wait to spend time with you this winter.
Love & hugs,
Lynn H.
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