"Knowledge is Irrevocable", Part 1

“Knowledge is irrevocable”.

I actually laughed out loud when I read that line in the 23andMe informational packet. It was such a dramatic way to word something so obvious it didn’t feel like it needed to be a warning. Of course knowledge is irrevocable; we don’t get to pick and choose what we remember.

As silly as I thought the line was at first, the words stuck with me over the next few days after reading it. I started to really think about what they meant, and how the information I would receive as part of this genetic test could really change my life. If anything, that warning was included for people precisely in my situation, who don’t know anything about their blood relatives.

I was adopted at four weeks old. My birth parents were only sixteen when I was born, still children themselves. I was extremely fortunate to be adopted into a loving family, and have been afforded many privileges throughout my life that wouldn’t have been possible otherwise. My parents have always been extremely open about the adoption; it’s something we’re proud of as it’s what made our family possible. They’ve always answered my questions about the process, and told me what they could about my birth parents. Since it was a closed adoption, there are few details about my birth family, but that’s never really bothered me. My “adoptive parents” are my real parents, as are my two brothers. I’ve never doubted that for a second, nor have I ever had hard feelings about being adopted. It’s a part of who I am, and it’s the reason I am where I am today.

Hollywood likes to make it seem like every adopted child’s dream is to find their birth parents. I can’t speak on behalf of all adopted people, but that has just never been the case for me. In part, it’s because of how open my family has been about the whole thing; I’ve never really felt like anything was missing in my life. I already have a mom and a dad and siblings who love me. Yes, I’ve wondered what my birth parents look like, how I may be similar or different from them, and what they ended up doing with their lives…but in almost thirty years, I never put much thought into really trying to “find” them.

Even if I wanted to, with it being a closed adoption there are quite a few hoops to jump through. First, I’d have to reach out to the adoption agency and fill out paperwork. They also require attending a therapy session to discuss how the next steps could affect me emotionally and mentally, and I would have to write a short “autobiography” about my life. All this work, and my request for information about my birth parents would only go through if one of them had also done the same. There is no way for one party to tell if the other has submitted a request before going through all the steps first.

And hence the start of the emotional layers that are involved in this whole process. There are so many variables to consider, each with different implications and ways I could feel about them. First, maybe they both want to keep the adoption completely closed and have no desire to find or meet me. If I go through all the steps just to find out it’s one sided, how would I feel? I’d like to think I would be okay, since I never really planned on meeting them anyway, but would that change once I actually know for sure?

Or on the other hand, what if they requested information about me the day I turned eighteen, the earliest they would have been allowed to? Ten years have passed since then. Could they have been waiting for me this whole time? Have they been hoping I would also want to find them, to have a relationship now that we’ve each had a chance to live our own lives? Maybe they’re disappointed that I haven’t reached out too, perhaps they’ve given up hope that I ever will. Do they worry that I resent them for giving me up? Or are they happy they did it? How would I juggle the relationships of my actual family, and these blood relatives I’ve never met before?

There’s also a chance they aren’t even alive. Maybe I decide one day to go through with it, only to find out it’s too late. How will I feel then?

These questions are part of the reason I haven’t pursued anything yet. I don’t know how I’ll actually feel in any of the scenarios. It’s too hard to wrap my head around; even though I’ve always known I was adopted and do have blood relatives out there, it doesn’t feel real. Maybe that sounds silly, but when you’ve gone your whole life without something, it’s really difficult to imagine anything else.

For twenty-eight years I’ve thought about all of these things, but haven’t made any moves. It’s so overwhelming to think about, and a lot easier to ignore the feelings and just continue my life. And so I have - I went to college, started my career, got married. And that’s when I started to think more about everything. One big drawback to a closed adoption is that I have absolutely no family medical history. I don’t know what things I could be prone to, or if I need to take early preventative steps for anything. More importantly, now that I’m married and open to the idea of having kids one day, I won’t have that information for them.

I’ve put off doing any of the popular genetic testing for a very long time. Once you participate in one, you potentially open the floodgates to finding blood relatives. It’s a loophole of sorts that could allow birth relatives to find one another outside of the adoption agency. When I first seriously started looking into the tests, my intention was solely for medical purposes; I wanted information that could help me and my future family. But as I thought more about it, I started opening up to the idea of also doing the genetic tests to see if I do have any close matches.

My change of heart began after losing both an aunt and my last grandparent last year. My extended family is now so small, and my husband’s is not much larger. Between the pandemic and losing close family members the last couple of years, I’ve started to realize that I can’t wait much longer if I ever want to find information about my birth family. But going this route opens up several new concerns…what if the fact my birth parents gave a child up for adoption is a closely guarded family secret? I could potentially find a close match who had no idea I even existed, and may cause friction between people I don’t even know. If my birth parents truly never intended to meet me, I would essentially be going behind their backs and potentially meeting other relatives against their wishes.

Or maybe it’s the complete opposite. Maybe I will end up meeting some of my blood relatives and starting a beautiful new relationship with them. Perhaps I’ll find I have half siblings or cousins that I have a lot in common with. Maybe I will finally learn more about what my birth parents did with their lives, and how it was all possible thanks to putting me up for adoption.

I don’t know what will happen. All I know is that for my entire life up until now, all possibilities were plausible, like Schrödinger's cat. They did want to meet me, or they didn’t want to meet me. They had a good life thanks to the adoption, or they didn’t. We’ll start a great relationship with one another, or we won’t. In a way, I felt safe by not knowing any of the answers. Being in limbo meant I didn’t have to feel bad, or sad, or rejected, or unwanted.

But staying in limbo also means I’d never know for sure. There would always be a part of me that wondered, what if? I might be fine living with that question for now, but will I feel that way in ten more years? At the end of my life? Would I be glad that I never knew for sure, in case the answers were not what I wanted…even if I’m not really sure what it is I want?

It’s scary to open the box. As the information packet told me, the information is irrevocable. I’ll never be able to go back to how things were once the results are in. Even if I have zero matches, or receive no messages from hopeful blood relatives, things will be different. I will feel differently than I do right now. And certainly if I do have matches, and people do want to meet me, I feel my life will be changed forever.

I don’t think I’ll ever be “ready” for this step. There’s no amount of mental preparation that can really get me ready for what’s to come. But I finally decided to do it anyway, ready or not.

My results will be ready in 2 more weeks. Regardless of what happens, I will come back and tell the next part of my story.