As many of my friends know, I was adopted as a newborn. I knew very, very little about my birth family, beyond the name I was christened with. As an adult, not surprisingly, I was curious about where I came from, and with my Mom's encouragement I tried to find out some details.
Unfortunately, there were none to be had. In a plot twist straight out of Dickens, back in the early 1970s there had been a fire at the orphanage where I was given to, and their paper records were destroyed. All traces of my hidden past were gone.
While it would have been really nice to have known where I came from, and whether I had any siblings, I reconciled myself to never knowing, and put it out of my mind.
Until last September, that is. That's when, for my birthday, my wife Dahlia got me the 23andme DNA testing. Truthfully, it was so that I could get a clearer picture of my medical history, since I had no idea what 'runs in the family', and also to determine my actual ethnic nationalities.
Turns out my ancestry is largely British, Irish and French, with a smattering of other various European groups...and, intriguingly, 0.2% Native American. I'd love to know the story of that hook up.
Health-wise, genetically speaking, I'm in fantastic shape, with no real disposition toward anything scary. Did you know that Maple Syrup Urine Disease is an actual thing? Well, now I do, but I'm not worried, because I don't have the variant for it.
The report is eerily specific about physical traits. Genetically, I'm not likely to have a cleft chin, and I don't. I should have detached earlobes, and I do. DNA says I shouldn't have to worry about going bald, which pleases Dahlia to no end.
I do have 296 Neanderthal variants, which is more than 79% of the population does, so I have that going for me.
I found all of this fascinating as I read it for the first time. Agenesis of the Corpus Callosum with Peripheral Neuropathy? Nothing I have to worry about! That Native American coupling likely happened sometime between 1700 and 1820? Maybe they knew Alexander Hamilton! I share a common ancestor with King Louis XVI? Sacré bleu!
So I'm clicking through all of the reports online, and I come to one marked 'Your DNA Family'. Opening it, I find 1,062 people, most of the listed as second to fifth cousins, and most of them anonymous.
But then there was the one at the top...the one identified only as Aimee. The one who shares 26.3% DNA with me, and who the report clinically announces "We predict this person is your Half Sister".
Pow. In an instant, I had a sister.
I was able to send a message to Aimee via the website (and as shocked as I was to learn of her, she surely was just as shocked to, in essence, get an Email announcing SURPRISE! You have a half-brother you knew nothing about!!!) We connected, and I got another surprise...I actually have two half-sisters! Andrea is the younger of the two.
The tale is thus: Marie was a young, single career girl in Chicago when, in January of 1966, she became pregnant. Marriage was out of the question, as apparently my birth father quickly disappeared from Marie's life, presumably when she told him the news. Despite the stigma of being an unwed mother at the time...and a Catholic at that...Marie was determined to have me.
She was also determined to give me up.
I had been asked once or twice in my life if I felt "abandoned", since I was placed in an orphanage at birth. Just the opposite, actually...I've felt loved. Because even as a child when I thought about this, I knew a woman carried me for nine months, cared for me, underwent the trauma of childbirth, and despite all of her maternal instincts to keep and nurture me, she gave me to others, because she knew it was the best thing for me. Marie didn't just give me life, she gave me one of the most unselfish, loving acts a mother can bestow on their child.
I'd have liked very much to have told Marie that, and to thank her. Sadly, she passed away in 2013. What makes me most sorry is that I never had the opportunity to tell her that she did the right thing, and that it all worked out fine...that a good family took me, that I've grown up happy, and that my life is a good and fulfilling one. I'm sure it would have pleased her mightily to know that.
A few years after having me, Marie met a man, and in time they married, had children, and grandchildren. She raised her daughters with love, and taught them to be the best they can be. She worked, she retired, she reveled in the role of grandmother. She lived a perfectly normal life. I am genuinely happy for her and the life she led.
Since this discovery, I've exchanged emails and texts with Aimee and Andrea. Aimee lives in Iowa, and not too long ago I drove out to meet her, spending the afternoon talking. This is going to sound tritely cliché, but it's the God's honest truth...I felt an immediate connection with her, and it felt as if we got on like two people who have known one another forever. Andrea is in Ohio, and I'm hoping to either find the opportunity before too much more time has passed to go there, or perhaps we can stage a bit of a 'family reunion' for the three of us somewhere else.
And when we do, I'd like to raise a toast to our mother, Marie Frances Cousineau. Until then, I'll simply wish her...
Happy Mother's Day
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