Dirty Little Secrets is not a sexy story. It involves life-changing events, mentions of depression, eating disorders and mental illness. This true tale could be triggering for some readers- and why not? It was for the writer.
Secrets
We all have secrets, some like the one I’m going to share today, are big. So big they change the way you view the world and how you see yourself in it. And some are small. Their insignificance barely registering. Everybody has secrets. Some have more than others. But if there’s one thing we can all agree on, it’s whether big or small, secrets always come out. The truth has a funny way of doing that.
Truths
I was four the first time I was sent to a foster home, and looking back, it didn’t seem like anything more than an adventure. Of course, unforgettable events had led up to that moment, but as children are wont to do, I quickly put it from my head.
Over the subsequent eight years, with many other events and numerous other homes, I came to accept that I was a foster child. Permanently. But I also began to understand that it was no fault of my own. It wasn’t that I was a bad kid, or because I was unwanted. The truth was that my parents just weren’t doing a very good job. By the time I was an adult, I came to accept that truth. I healed, I grew, and I took what I could from the experience and let the rest go.
That is, until I learned a whole new truth. I am my family’s dirty little secret.
Science Doesn’t Lie
Like most deep, dark secrets, the unraveling of this one began innocently. My oldest son was working on a school project about DNA and my youngest about family trees. Not knowing my father’s side of my heritage and not having a way to ask him (he passed almost twenty years ago), I decided to help my oldest with his project and fill in the youngest family tree at the same time. I sent for a DNA test.
Four weeks later, a box arrived. I spit into a tube, twisted the top on and shook the contents together. Dropping it in a smaller box, I shipped said tube away and six weeks later, got notification of my results.
I read through the ethnicities first, having always wondered where my roots originated, and learned that my ancestors were mainly from Scotland, with a sprinkling of Scandinavian bloodlines mixed in. My boys thought it was so cool we’re descended from Vikings (I let them have their fun, even though it’s likely not true). I’ll admit that with the family tree starting to have some new branches, I had a sense of excitement, too.
But then I went through my shared matches and what I found left me open mouthed, and frankly quite shocked. On my mother’s side, all was as I had known (Although not close with my mother, my grandmother has remained in contact with me and filled in that side of my family line). But on my father’s side, there was a list of Surnames I knew well, but not because they were my fathers. No, they were a family name well connected to mine. So connected, marriage had related them many times over.
At first, I thought it must have been a mistake. But science doesn’t lie. Then I wondered why I’d never known. How can your entire life have you thinking your dad is one man and then, poof, in an instant, you find out he’s not?
So, I didn’t something that I’ve never once wanted to do in my life. I called my mother.
Who’s your Daddy?
The story she told began forty years ago, around the time of my conception. My mother, against her parent’s wishes and well-meant reasoning, had married a man twenty years her senior. He had been previously wed and divorced and, not thinking he’d want more children later, had undergone a vasectomy. But my mother was young and wanted a child with her new husband, so he did what he thought best. He found someone to help them. How you ask? He organized a handful of men he knew and paid them to sleep with his wife.
What started as a paid arrangement quickly gave the results my mother was looking for. She was pregnant and happy as a clam. Until she wasn’t.
The man I called dad (before foster care and this tale coming to the surface) was an alcoholic. I only remember a handful of visits with him as a child, but every one of them he had a beer in his hand. It wasn’t long into my parent’s marriage when my mother figured that out too. Six months after I was born, their marriage ended, only two years after it began, and I rarely saw the man known as dad again. In fact, when he passed, I knew so little about him and had such a limited relationship that I didn’t even attend his funeral. Was that wrong of me? Perhaps.
She had never known who my biological father was, and it had never mattered. I was not supposed to find out… It was supposed to remain a secret.
The Truth Shall set you Free…
But I did find out. And knowing the truth, I had to make a decision. Should I inform the man who is my father of this new discovery?Mister K and I discussed it. A lot. My mind was reeling from the implications. I knew he had a daughter a few years younger than me, and I worried about her finding out in a similar manner. There was also the chance of another relative discovering the secret, or his wife. That was when I realised I had an entire other family, one of more than marriage and names and foster homes. This family was my flesh and blood.
Everything I had thought I had known about myself changed in the simple reading of DNA results. A million questions came and went. A million emotions conflicted me. Would my childhood had been different had my mother been honest back then? Does different automatically mean better? What if my new family found out, and they didn’t like me? (Mister K assured me that would be impossible).
I finally decided if it were me, I would want to know. Mister K agreed. I thought carefully about how to approach it and planned out exactly what I would say. I would make it very clear that I didn’t want or expect anything from him, but thought he should know that he had a child in the world. And so I contacted him the only way I knew how. Through a family friend.
But not until it’s finished with you…
The family friend was not shocked at all. She told me she had seen a baby picture of me and thought the resemblance was much too uncanny to be coincidence, although she never wanted to say anything, to not stir the pot (how nice to have that choice).
She agreed she would help me. We planned for her to present him with the DNA evidence and tell the story my mom had told. If he wanted to talk about it, she would give him my number. So, I waited a week, then two.
During the wait, I found my new sister on Facebook, but delayed contacting her until I received word back. I also found my father and his wife’s profile and could see photos of their life together. They became real people. A real possibility. I learned everything I could after two weeks and eventually the family friend called back.
My father did not receive the news well. He had known there was a chance I was his (we actually met twenty years ago and sat across from each other at a wedding), but he didn’t care. It was a favor for a friend and that was the end of it. He was not prepared to uproot his wife’s life or change his daughter’s views of him by telling her he had a dirty little secret (his words). Could I please let it go, and never contact them again? Oh, and if I tried to pursue financial retribution or make parental claims, he would meet me in court.
And that was that.
The family friend told me to give it time. It’s been ten months now. I don’t think he’ll be calling.
The Secrets fall Out
I tried to let it go. I really did, but I couldn’t.
A week after that shocking phone call, I found they had blocked me from viewing their profiles on Facebook. Family on both sides (mothers and new dads) began blocking me on Facebook and other social media platforms. I received emails and messages from people I had never met telling me I was a money grabbing b*tch and nothing more. What I was doing was despicable. I should be ashamed.
I began to wonder what was wrong with me. How could people bring children into the world with so little regard? How could you find out you had a child (even if grown with children of their own) and be so cold about it? How could anyone expect it to be forgotten? How can people be so cruel? How could people who had never met me make such callous accusations?
With each passing day, I began to let the implications sink in a little more. The idea that I had found a family, but a chance of a relationship was impossible. That my parents could pay money to have a child and not take care of it. The fact that even family I had known my whole life began deleting me from theirs. The fact that I was unwanted, after all.
It’s not until you’re standing on an island when you realize how alone you truly are.
As you can imagine, this past year has not been great. I can’t write because I can’t focus. I can’t sleep because I can’t shut my brain off. Recently, I was diagnosed with chronic depression and a binge eating disorder-something that I always had the potential for but kept well under control. Life is different now. I am different now. Nothing feels the same. I have little trust in the family I have left to call my own and even less in humanity. But I’m working on it. Some days my bed is my favourite place to be. I only wish it was for something more than tears and sleep.
The Secrets we Keep
Some secrets are better left kept secret, I suppose. But then again, the truth always comes out. Maybe it’s not the secrets that are the problem, but what we do with them and who we keep them from.
Some Secrets I’ll likely never have answers to:
-how much they paid my father
-if he wondered if I was his daughter twenty years ago when I sat at a table across from him without so much as a single word exchanged
-How two people can want a child so much they’re willing to pay for it, but choose not to take care of it
I’ll let you in on a little secret of my own. This post is this 2021’s 100th. As you can imagine, I’m still dealing with the fallout of this secret. It’s taken longer than I want, longer than Mister K thinks it should and more energy than I have some days. That being said, I’ve decided to take some time and spend it on myself. I will post less this month (if that’s possible, I only put out 6 posts in November) and will be focusing on getting back to where I feel I should be. Although I have a post coming for Christmas and another for New Year, so make sure you watch for those. Mmm Mondays will still run as well, so watch that space too.
Also, I’ve decided not to do the Advent Calendar this year. I’m just not feeling very festive. But if you’re interested in celebrating the season with me and Mister K, you can find 2020’s kinky advent here.
And if you have a secret that has the potential to change a life. Maybe it isn’t yours to keep.
For more posts about Secrets, hit the bullseye.
You can find more about MrsK’s life here.
Hi Mrs K. I am shocked after reading this post. Sometimes I just don’t understand people and their lack of humanity or care. The way some children are treated is beyond me. And in this situation you are still a child, even if an adult one. I am sorry not to have read your post sooner and wish I could have offered you some support. I hope that you are able to find a way to process all of this slowly and in your own time. You are an amazing person and that is down to who you have made yourself and who you have chosen to be. It is in spite of what others have done and not because of them. You have built your own amazing family and give your children all the stability, love and acceptance that you never had. I know that our brains default to ways of thinking which aren’t helpful at times but I hope that you can find a way to process your emotions and get back to the life you have chosen and not the one you were given. Sending love and thoughts. Missy xx
Thank you for your support Missy! As you know, it’s difficult to put things liek this out there and have other view your flaws (or perceived flaws). So many have been so wonderful since sharing and I’ve learned a big lesson about what asking for help looks like. Sometiems it’s a post, and you dont even know it! Life has a funny way of bringing what you need (at least in my experience).
You, sending your thoughts, is exactly he support I need. So thank you. Again!
I get that, the reaction (for an outsider) is so painful. I am glad you’ve found a way to frame it. Your friend seems very wise in their thoughts.
I’m going to keep thinking kn the documentary. I want to watch it again too now!
Well done for being so brave, and vulnerable! I hope it helps your healing. Sometimes just getting these out of our minds gives them less power over us as time passes. 🙂
I’ve been trying, and failing, to find the words to share my support MrsK. My head is swimming with questions I want to know the answers to, and I know that doesn’t even scratch the surface of your discovery.
There was a documentary I watched on sperm donors and their children, the laws are changing (in the UK at least) and it’s proving exciting and scary for those interviewed. It was fascinating, if uncomfortable viewing, but I can’t find it. I had a quick look for support networks that may be helpful and found this site. (I hope I don’t cause distress describing him in this way, as an outsider thats how I am reading him)
https://www.donorconceivedalliance.ca/resources-for-the-donor-conceived/
As for the people who have dared to question you and cut you off. Shame. On. Them!
Trust in the love and care of the ones who remain. They love you! I KNOW it’s hard to believe but you are worth them staying for.
The rest of them have only shown you what they’ve been hiding all along. That they are not deserving of your time and energies. You can invest those back in yourself (and when you’re ready the ones who’ve proven their place can have a little too. But first and foremost save those spoons fir stirring your own pot)
Sending warm hugs across the ocean. N xx
Oh. You are so sweet. It has taken me days to reply because I really suck at being vulnerable (don’t we all!).
I never thought of him as a a donor and now that I have, it feels different. Less personal somehow (although that has taken some time), and yet the reaction is what stings most…
I just had someone tell me “it’s not you that’s rejected. it’s an idea, a responsibility, a recognition of failure, but certainly not the person you are.” And that somehow feels very right….
Thank you for the link. I’m very interested to read other opinions. And if you ever remember the documentary, please share 🙂
I was so scared to share this life altering event, but everyone has been so great about it. Thank you for that and your wonderful time thinking of me 🙂
Hey Mrs K – I knew you were struggling adjusting to some new information. it didn’t show in your writing – more in your lack of interaction, I’m sorry I wasn’t more attuned.
How brave of you to share this post, after the blows you have been dealt, your strength is admirable.
I’ve always thought your sunny attitude about your time in foster care was amazing, however this is going to take some getting over. Grieving is where you are at, for all the possibilities, the lies you’ve spent years and much energy investing in … the list goes on.
One of the parts I don’t get (and there are many) is your blood father telling you he wants to keep your paternity a secret and then all the blocking which ensued … testament to the fact that he didn’t keep his part in your life a secret at all – although I’ll bet ‘sanitised’ how he told the story.
Right, straightening your back and moving on, I want you to remind yourself every second of every day what a gorgeous family unit you have created: your partner, your boys, your life together filled with trust and love giving each other time and respect. Keep that in a bubble and don’t let the lies and disrespectful attitudes from that other portion of your family sully your snowglobe of love.
I know good people – Mrs K you are top class, A grade good people xoxo
Oh, Thank you Posy!
I agree with you about the messages and my fathers desire to keep a sceret not adding up. My guess is news travels fast. One reason I wanted to tell him, was becasue my birth mom can be very unpredicatable, and I worried about him hearign it from her, and her asking somethign of him. Maybe she did, or another memeber of his family. It’s a mess. The whole she-bang!
You’re very sweet to say it didn’t affect my writing (at elast externally). The marathon was almost a breaking point, which is very unfortyunate because I was really looking forward to it. I just wasn;t in a good place to accept critisicm, unfortunately. Maybe I’ll tey again next year?…
I’m sorry to hear this. People can be such a holes… I will say my wife had similar situation involving a split and deletion from her family for many years. She was upset for a short time, but decided she had a family. Me our kids and a few others. She decided life was too short to be concerned with people who act in that way. Knowing they had this potential, did she want to be around them anyway? No, she did not.
She deleted them from her life. Guess what, years later they all came back to her. He who cares the least wins? Or they realized their actions were wrong? Who knows? In the end my wife feels we are all she needs. Through this time, I offered a few words, but for most men we can cut people off much easier. I know I can. I did not understand her feelings. I simply made sure she felt loved enough that she forgot about them. I know we are all different but try not to let these folks obscure the family you do have. I hope you find a way to make peace with this.
Peace will come, it will just take time. You’re right about the A-holes though. I’ve decided it would have been nice to have a relationship with that side of my family, but they’ve made it clear that it is not meant to be. And that’s okay, I just wish it hadn’t of been stated in such an unfortunate way.
Thanks for readign and for your gentle words! Much appreciated!
Holy shit! When I clicked on this post I had no idea what I was in for. What an amazing journey you’ve been on with this. And how sad that so many people chose to be so cruel about this information once they had it. I can see why you may need a break to heal.
Yeah, it’s been a warped ride. Thanks for reading Brigit ❤
There really are not many words I can find to comment here. We talked a little about this months back and because of my past family history I understand a little of what you are going through, but what is happening here is your unknown past has gate-crashed into your present – and by doing that has changed it. You need time to grieve… It never ever ceases to amaze me in life how people behave towards others. I am hoping that time enables you to realise that you do not need ‘any one’ else’s validation – They can all go fuck themselves – you are a special person, dig deep and take care of your heart
May x ❤ x
Haha! You have a knack for making me laugh and cry at the same time! Someone else also told me I’m in a grieving state and it suddenly made everything I was feeling so much more…understandable. Thank you for your lovely words May (here, there and everywhere). You’re a great friend ❤
What a moving post. Totally agree with Gemstoneb3.
You cannot choose your family but you can choose your friends and who gets your time.
Hugs
lilly
Thank you Lilly! ❤
This family you have found yourself connected to by blood are not worthy of your heart, mind or time. I wish I had some wise words of wisdom to impart, but I haven’t, I can only say hand on heart, you are worthy of so much more than they could ever give you. They can’t even give it to themselves. To be so callous and cold to one who did nothing but have the temerity to be born, I find that beyond cruel.
You have a right to your birthright albeit nothing but the knowledge of who fathered you. Given what you know, I can only say, perhaps this way is for the best, to be called someone’s dirty little secret is unbelievably vicious and cruel.
At the very least, you know the truth for yourself and that is something they can not take away from you no matter what they say to the contrary. I respect you immensely for telling your story and revealing the cruel strokes DNA results brings with it.
I hope you can find a way to move forward from this and remember who you were and what you had before the dna results came through. You were content with who you knew yourself to be and the life you have built for yourself. Build on that foundation, it was already solid and in good order. These new foundations seem built of sand and crumble too easily. So much hurt from a simple test. I am so heartfelt sorry for what you have been put through and experienced. Much Love MrsK. x
Your words about foundations are spot on. I’m working on restoring it. Thanks Thanks your encouragement and for reading 🙂
If I am reeling after reading this, I know I am only scratching the surface at how you must feel, living this. Secrets always come out. Lies do too. I don’t know if you have read my post on Medium – Lies of Past Times – but finding out what we have, has totally rewritten part of my history too.
Take the time you need to get back to where you want to be, MrsK. I am so sorry you have to go through this all.
Thank you for sharing this personal history!
~ Marie xox
Thank you Marie. It’s a lot and I’m not sure I’ll ever be back to who I was, but I’m not adverse to trying.
I just read your tale (thank you for sharing) and wow! I completely am blown away.
I hope your daughter finds her father and gets her peace. I hope you get yours too 🙂
Thank you, MrsK, and in the meantime you know how the follow-up on this. I am still trying to find the words to write about that… xox