I brought this picture up on the computer the other day, and showed my mother-in-law. Her exact words were "he looks familiar." I asked why, and she said "you." She was right. The above picture is my sperm donor. The picture, I'm disgusted to say, is from the Michigan offender website.
I hadn't been on the offender website in years. Something inside me decided to look again... and there he was again. That awful mugshot. Those awful eyes. I look at him, the sad, pathetic, angry eyes... the pissed off at the world look, and I feel nothing. Ok, totally lying. I wish I felt nothing. The truth is, I feel resentment.
I found out that this pathetic loser left my egg donor because she was pregnant. He went back to her after my adoption. He was with her for TEN years after that... beating her, abusing her physically and mentally... and being a pathetic member of society. He spent much of the 90's and this decade in and out of jail... drugs, abuse, running from the cops, threatening random people, alcoholism... you name it, other than murder, he probably was in jail for it. He was just released on parole for the gazillionth time at the beginning of this month... we'll see how long his status on the website stays at "parolee" and not "currently incarcerated."
Ok, so a little background on this... these crazy emotions I'm feeling right now... when I was 18, I decided to find my egg donor. (At the time I called her my birth mother, but have decided she doesn't deserve the title of "mother" in any form.) Catholic Social Services in Ann Arbor told me that the search would take months... even years. 4 days after my 18th birthday, I received a call... it only took 2 phone calls to find her. Two days later, I spoke to her for the first time. I found out her name was Melissa. I found out that she always knew my name was Melissa. (To this day, that fact pisses me off, because Catholic Social Services should have kept their mouths shut as to what my first name is.)
When I decided to do the search, I kept the idea from everyone but Brandon and my senior English teacher. The morning after I talked to her, I was eating breakfast, and asked my mom if she knew that my birth mother's name was Melissa. I could tell my mom was completely caught off guard... and then I told her that I had found her and talked to her. I then went to school. A few weeks later, I had received numerous letters and pictures from HER and put them in a photo album. I brought the album out one weekend when my brother Michael was home from school. Again, not using my brain, I said "who does she look like?" And then dropped the bombshell that I had found my egg donor. Michael didn't look at me the same, ever again. (I still feel strained in our relationship because of this.)
The next few months went by quickly. I wrote and emailed and talked to HER constantly. I found out that I had cousins. That I was the "first born" in the family. And then the date was set... she would be coming to Georgia to meet me in person. The date, December 26, 2001. Looking back, I wish I had never gone to the hotel in Augusta to meet her.
We kept in touch almost daily for a long time... I went to Michigan in the summer of 2002... and again in 2003. She showed up uninvited in Sioux Falls in 2003. Slowly, things were brought into the picture... how pathetic she was... losing her job, getting arrested for having pot in her car, moving back in with her parents in her FORTIES... the list goes on. I also found out from her sister, she decided on adoption because of the pathetic sperm donor above, was with him for those ten years afterwards, and more. I became bitter.
Then I got engaged. Set a wedding date. And told her nothing. At this time, the contact we had was few and far between, but there were still emails and letters. After I got married, she found out somehow (I think she stalked the Augusta paper) and emailed me. Her email was so immature. So pathetic. So harsh. I responded that I was grateful for what she had done, grateful that I had questions answered, but no longer needed her in my life. That was the last time I contacted her.
I've received letters over the years. I don't know what's she is up to, where she is living, what she is doing... nothing. And I'm fine with that.
It took a lot of "searching" to realize what mattered in my life... my family. The Anderson's. The turmoil I caused by finding this woman, was not worth the answers I got. I regret it daily. However, even with the regrets... I am blessed. I am blessed that SHE made the right decision... she brought me into this world, and gave me a chance at life. The questions I had about HER and HIM seem so meaningless now. No, she didn't hold me when I was born. Yes, she stayed with the asshole. Yes, her mother wanted to keep me. Yes, she lied to me when she said she thought she was too young to be a mother... the truth, the man in the picture.
The questions I want to answer are this: Yes, I am blessed to have my family. Yes, I believe that love is thicker than blood. Yes, I regret my decision to find my donors. And Yes, I apologize for doing so.
I don't know if I'll tell my kids about these two people that have impacted my life... when they ask where they get their blonde hair on my side, I'll say great grandma. Blue eyes, Uncle Michael. I know where some of these traits come from... but it doesn't matter. Because they have two amazing uncles, and a wonderful grandma and terrific grandpa... that love them, and me, and are truly my family.
Melissa
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