I am about to embark on a journey. Unlike others I have taken, this one doesn’t require a suitcase, airfare or passport. This is a journey of a different sort—a quest made possible by science. They always promised better living through chemistry; we’ll see if that’s true.
My wife booked me on this trip when she ordered a little box that arrived via mail shortly thereafter. The contents promise the possibility of self-discovery. Promise, but not a guarantee.
It is a box from one of those companies that take a sample of your DNA and compare it with all the others in their vast and growing database to see if there are any branches in your family tree of which you are unaware.
That is a distinct possibility and for good reason. I was adopted as a newly minted human. I lived in the hospital for five days and then was taken home to the Maines’ house, where I joined the team. Drafted right out of the womb. Bill and Betty are the only parents I have ever known, and I have never really considered finding the biological side of the equation. My mother always offered to help were I ever interested. I just haven’t been interested, at least not to that point. I have always figured they—or perhaps only she—had good reasons and would not likely want to be confronted by that decision again.
My wife, being the wiser of the two of us, is encouraging me to begin this trek into the helix that so determines who we are and how we grow. Not to unearth some big secret in my past, but to help determine our children’s future. The information gained will hopefully indicate what sorts of issues may be in the genetic code that could spell trouble ahead. Does heart disease run in the family? Is there a history of cancer? Is my inability to pick shirts that match my pants hereditary? So far, it has not shown itself to be so, as both of my children have a sense of style obviously received from their mother’s side of the science. But only the DNA can tell us for certain.
Of course, this late in my timeline there isn’t much I can do to forestall any of the heavier health issues, but our children still have time to make some changes.
I have no expectations or hopes for finding any blood relations. At my age it is likely my biological parents are under the ground and not walking it. I’m not sure what I would do if either of them is still alive. That’s a decision I will tackle if the journey takes me to that particular fork in the road.
I have friends who have made this journey with some interesting results. Some have found siblings they didn’t know existed. One was reunited with the child she put up for adoption right after giving birth. These journeys had heartwarming destinations. I have heard of others that have not.
In reading the agreement that goes along with the kit, it does warn you of that. They warn you that your snooping may take you in some unexpected and possibly upsetting directions. I’ve never seen that in a legal disclaimer but it is certainly fitting. Although, it does make me wonder who would sue these folks for something in one’s past that the company has no control over. The answer is “humans”, of course.
A word to parents who have adopted or who are planning to adopt: tell your children at an early age that they are adopted. Given easy access to this technology, they might find out on their own. That could make for some awkward conversation during your Thanksgiving feast. I was told when I was very young. It didn’t change me or the way I felt about my parents. Hey, you have to respect a mom at the age of 43 and a dad at the age of 49 who are willing to take on new born while also dealing with a rambunctious eight-year-old boy.
If you are adopted, don’t fall into the trap of victimhood thinking that your biological parents gave you up because they didn’t love you or want you. They may not have been able to take care of you the way they would have wanted. Be thankful for your adoptive parents and the love that they showed by adopting you. I am thankful that my birth mother gave me up. I landed in a home that surrounded me with love even when I was an attitudinal adolescent…especially then.
Time now to spit in a cup and see where my ticket to the past may lead. In the meantime, if you have taken this journey, I would value hearing your story. Drop me an email at [email protected].
