Dirty Little Secret

Published by Heather Louise on June 26, 2020June 26, 2020

Fast forward, friends. My biological father is alive and lives in the same town, just ten minutes down the road. He has 4 children, three boys, and a girl, my half-siblings. They all live within 15 minutes of me.

And not one of them has acknowledged my existence.

One of the many hopes I have for putting my journey out there for you all is to shine the spotlight on the stigma that is wrongfully attached to this type of discovery. This isn’t just my story. DNA tests can be bought for around $100. The number of DNA surprises is growing exponentially by the day. And so many other people are receiving the same news that I did. That I am not the biological daughter of the man I called Dad. If you don’t personally know someone going through this experience yet, you will soon.

Finding out who you thought you were, you are no longer. Read that sentence again and I will try to give it some context.

Maybe you grew up in an Italian family, making homemade wine with your Dad, going to Nonna’s every Sunday for spaghetti dinner, teaching your daughter how to recreate your great-grandmother’s famous cannoli recipe. For Christmas, you, your brother, and your sister each receive an Ancestry DNA kit. You finally get to find out if your ancestors are really from Rome! You spit in a tube and send it off. A few weeks later, the results are back!

Wait. Your results show zero Italian DNA. Your siblings show DNA from Southern Italy, but your results aren’t the same as theirs. Your Italian DNA is replaced with Northern Brazil DNA. You are now an NPE (Non-Paternity Event or Not-Parent Expected). You are a RESULT.

What thoughts are whirling through your mind right now? Are your parents still alive so you can ask questions? Did your mother have an affair? Were you the product of a sperm donor, or maybe even a rape? Yep, I went there because it happens. There are a gazillion other questions, but where do you start? Do you tell anyone? Oh My God, your Dad! How are you going to tell your Dad that he is not your Dad?! Does he know? Is this why you always felt like he treated you a little bit different than your brother and sister? The questions are just the endless beginning.

Twisted, though, how the NPEs are the ones who are expected to carry the shame of our parent’s actions. That is one of the hardest things for me to wrap my head around. I didn’t choose this for myself. I am the RESULT of two people’s bad choices 40+ years ago. They chose this FOR me.

Today, I felt a bit of that inherited shame. I went to the gym early this morning and as I picked up the pen to sign in, I noticed the last name of the person who signed in before me. Gentile. Immediately, the anxiety kicked in. I know I am related to someone in this gym, but who? Then I saw him. A first cousin. He was with his young son, so I chose not to approach him. I wanted to introduce myself. What would I even say? I am sure he knows about me, but how would he react towards me? Is he close to my biological siblings? Would he rather I act like a stranger when I see him? The questions, you see, they don’t stop.

I can’t choose what has happened to me, but I can choose how I respond. And I am responding with my story, from this side of the fence. It’s time for me to stop feeling like a dirty little secret.

Stick with me friends. I am just getting started. There is so much in between, but today, I am putting down the weight of my truth. It’s not mine to carry.