I have an unknown amount of siblings. I just found a new brother. I can’t contact him. I want to know him. I mean, why wouldn’t I? He’s my, from what I can see, baby brother.
I don’t feel like this is progressive or revolutionary. I don’t feel like this is brave or on the cutting edge. I don’t particularly feel like donor conception should be made easier for anyone. I don’t feel like the government, the industry, or recipient parents (particularly the LGBT community—my community) can hear me. I don’t think they want to.
Because everyone wants to believe that love will make it better, make the curiosity go away, remove all obstacles, and make everything ethical again.
But, that is not so.
I feel overwhelmed and I just want it to stop. This is cyclical and I have no idea how many more times this will happen. I cannot control the urge within me to continue my search.
How exhausting, to constantly be searching for your face in other faces. How tiring, to be monitoring—to be prowling—online spaces to just find your siblings. To see what you share. To see who they are.
This is the reality of being donor-conceived.
Photo by Anita Peeples on Unsplash