In Search: of a father’s love
In Search: of a father’s love
When I found my maternal birth siblings, the two oldest asked that they first get a chance to talk with their younger sister They didn’t want to just spring the truth on her. Apparently, while growing up, they had always teased her that she was adopted. In their twenties, the two oldest siblings were on a camping trip with their father and he had shared with them that mom had placed “twins” for adoption. As it turns out, I learned that I do have a younger birth brother, we are not twins; he was conceived only 10 months after my birth and placed with another adoptive family.
Perhaps their father told his two oldest children, that we were “twins” to save face and possibly more humiliation; evidently, he had stayed married to our mother through two pregnancies that were not his flesh and blood.
But my unexpected disruption in the lives of these three siblings that my mother parented did come as a hidden revelation their younger sister. She had only been 14 years old when our mother had passed away. Too young at the time to see through the eyes of a child that sometimes those we love the most don’t always make the best choices in life.
The oldest sister helped pay for an expensive blood test that proved the man listed on my “only” birth certificate was their father, but not mine. The courts stated for all intents and purposes that he was considered legally my biological father because my birth mother was married to him at the time of my conception. But sadly, for me, this disappointing fact brought up the count to “four” absent fathers throughout my childhood. This particular man had signed on the dotted line as my father on my adoption relinquishment papers and had probably never even set eyes on me.
I did eventually locate my birth father
The highly well-respected doctor doing the Pedigree Reconstruction Testing said that it was the first time he had ever done a test quite like mine, where the biological mother and biological father in question were deceased and they had to use living relatives from both sides of the presumed family to determine paternity. This kind doctor had to break the news to me that my biological siblings’ dad was indeed not my birth father.
Four “Absent” Fathers
2. May 27, 1909 — March 1966, 57 years old, my biological mother’s husband, open-pit miner, never met him, considered my father by law; along with my biological mother’s name, he is listed as my bio father on my “only” birth certificate.
3. January 10, 1916 — September 7, 1973, 57 years old, my first adoptive father, house painter, from a first-generation Polish family, I only knew him for the first 6 years of my life due to alcoholism, domestic violence, and a bitter divorce with my adoptive mother. His name, as well as my adoptive mother’s name, is not listed on any birth certificate for me as ever being my parents, but both of their names are on my sparse, incomplete birth adoption records. By some accounts, it was public knowledge that my first adoptive father had a serious drinking problem at the time of my birth.
4. January 19, 1909 — April 3, 2002, 93 years old, my second adoptive dad, a radiologist. I believe I loved him more than anything in this world, probably more than I loved myself. But when I begged him to tell me the truth about the many lies, secrets, and inconsistencies concerning my life story his cold answer was, “I thought my inheritance would be more important than the truth.” At that point I realized—sadly his love came with ultimatums and a high price tag. I couldn’t win at this cruel game my parents were playing and I had to walk away from our relationship that was severed beyond repair. Crushingly, I learned on my own that he never adopted me like he had always told me since I was seven years old. As it turns out, I only assumed his last name without the court’s involvement.
There are no legal documents on file in any of the three states I have lived in throughout my life to indicate that one or more of the parties had ever bothered to try to rectify the errors/problems (deception) with my adoption at birth. It’s not clear the degree of difficulty or that it was even possible at that juncture to be listed as their child on an amended birth certificate. Obviously, nobody ever thought it was important enough to give me what I truly wanted and needed…a deeper sense of belonging.
I can’t change the ending to this story. However, I choose to share the grief out loud as my way of letting go of the losses. My hope and prayer are that my painful truths will be a bitter-sweet reminder for more fathers to go give your daughters a hug, randomly call your daughters on the phone and just say, “I love you,” or find your estranged and lost daughters and make amends. Believe me–daddies are such a significant part of a girl’s life.