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There were four children from the same mother, each with a different sperm-donor (I won't use the word "father" ― that's a desecration of a sacred term). There were three daughters and one son ― a daughter born in 1977, a daughter born in 1982, a son born in 1988, and another daughter born in 1990.
I have a personal connection to this story. The daughter born in 1990 is my daughter; we adopted her while we were living in Korea at that time.
All of them purchased a DNA test to look into their health history. An adopted child doesn't have a genetic mother and father who can tell them about parents or grandparents who had cancer or heart disease or Alzheimer's or other diseases known to have a genetic link. Each of these adopted Korean Americans were looking for answers to health questions and got so much more ― they found siblings.
The oldest, Jenessa was first and her results were sitting in the 23andMe files, when the second-oldest, Melissa, entered the scene. Melissa saw the message first and contacted Jenessa. Neither could believe it! Jenessa traveled to Iowa to meet Melissa and they spent a week bonding together.
Then the two of them thought they would double-check the testing by trying another DNA company, Ancestry. And there they discovered Laurel. Laurel is my daughter, and I remember the day she called and said she has two sisters. We were shocked but delighted. Melissa and Laurel met, but Jenessa and Laurel were planning to meet when the COVID crisis slowed all travel down.
Then earlier this year, unbelievably, there was more news from 23andMe. There was a brother! Later, Jenessa said, it was like winning the lottery ― not once, not twice but three times. Steve was shocked, as was everyone else, but at least the sisters had been through this before. For Steve it was something completely new ― three sisters out there.
They finally all met up recently in Washington, D.C., and the overall conclusion was that they were indeed siblings. They talked and laughed and "caught up" and compared life stories and similarities in each of their stories. The words each kept using were that it felt "comfortable" and "natural." They all just fit together.
Coincidences: Two of them have a mother named Carol, two of them have a father named Joseph, and there is an uncle Joseph, two married men named Jonathan, and two have a son named Aiden. And all four of them feel like they have a new family ― Melissa called it a "bio-family."
Each of them can be categorized as a successful adoption case. All are happy with their adopted families and say, "that is my family." They have mothers and fathers that they love and all but Melissa have siblings.
What is a "real" family? For them, each one of them, it is the family that raised them. Who is your "real mother" and who is your "real father"? For them the mother that fed them, nurtured them, took care of them when they were sick ― that is the "real mother." The father that held them as babies, took them to their first day at school, who attended their concerts and sporting events, who taught them how to drive ― that is the "real father."
Adoptive fathers get a little testy when some asks, "Who is the real father?" The response is: "I raised her, I took care of her, I was there for her, I loved her ― you are looking at the "real father." If you mean, "Who is the biological father?" ― my answer is always, "I don't know who the sperm donor was, but I am the real father."
These four "children" ― now adults with children of their own (Steve just got married and has one on the way) ― have not had much thought of finding their birth mother ― until now. Since there are four of them from the same mother ― the DNA says ― they have some mild degree of curiosity about her. None of them has had that yearning to know about the birth mother that you sometimes hear about in adopted kids. But at this point, they would like to meet her.
I, as the adoptive father, have a greater desire to meet the biological mother than all the four children combined. I want to thank her. Thank her for giving life to four wonderful babies, one I raised, and three others I have only met recently, and for two of them, only online. But thank you to the birth mother, and to all birth mothers, who give life and in their own way give love to these children to be raised by "real parents" who love them dearly.
Mark Peterson (markpeterson@byu.edu) is professor emeritus of Korean, Asian and Near Eastern languages at Brigham Young University in Utah.