Father's Day

Well it's a little out of character for me to write two entries in one day, but when have I ever cared about staying in character?

This day is filled with so much emotion and confusion for me. It is quite possibly the hardest day of the year for me. As you may have gathered from earlier posts (or if this is your first read) I do not know my biological father. I was adopted at age 7 by the man whom married my mother, as some would say "step-dad."

I LOATHE the word, step-dad. At least in my case.

I call the man who adopted me, "dad." (Quick note: The biological father will always be referenced as, "bio-dad.") I believe the word dad means much more than genetics and paternal obligations. I supposed if you asked my bio-dad, he would too considering he feels 0 paternal obligations to me. A dad is simply someone who provides unconditional love to a child, as well as commits to protect and provide for that child and put their best interests ahead of his own. While most men either plan or fall into the assumed title of "dad;" my dad had a choice to take on this role and for that I will be forever grateful.

With all of that prefaced, it has not been an easy road to accepting the fact my bio-dad wants nothing to do with me. At age 15, my kidney had completely calcified itself and I was believed to need a blood transfusion and possible kidney, obviously meaning I needed a donor. With no one in my family the same blood type as me, my mom reached out to my bio-dad and asked for his help.

His response. Silence. Followed by the fact he terminated his paternal commitment to me and did not owe me anything.

15 years old. I don't even care if you are related to the person... If you were the best shot at saving a child's life, how could you say no without remorse?

That man, if you can even call him that, 50 percent responsible for my creation would have been OK if I had died in the hospital that day. My parents - including my real dad (who adopted me), were beside themselves as they would have done anything to help me. If you say you don't believe in miracles, I will challenge that theory. After the bio-dad emotionlessly turned down my best chance for survival, my kidney miraculously came back to life and I no longer needed emergency surgery. Final report results read: Inclusive.

Anyway, that story is only one of many stories regarding my bio-dad that are sure to make any decent person's stomach twist. The truth is, I didn't really understand the concept of a "dad" when I was little. I knew the word and knew the kids at school would have their "dad" come and pick them up. I often wondered why I didn't have a dad. I thought a dad was similar to adopting a pet from the shelter, you just picked one out and I hadn't had the chance to yet. One year I even sat on Santa's lap in crowded mall and asked him to bring me a dad. After all, the north pole only makes the finest gifts.


As I grew older, I started to realized I should have had a dad. That was normal. Two of my favorite words: should and normal. When my mom started dating the man I now refer to as dad, I was just as excited about it as she was. He Was SO COOL. Let me play with his German Shepherd, took me horse-back riding. He would pick me up and carry me around for no reason. I remember thinking after seeing him a few times, this is why my friends have dads.

Oh, the innocence of a child.

Before he officially adopted me, I was really concerned at what adoption meant. I remember asking if I would still be able to use the same toothpaste and sleep in the same bed. Instead of my parents being understanding of a child's normal fears, I was scolded and sent to my room for asking such questions. I still remember the way my tears tasted as I cried myself to sleep, half bent over on my bed, wrapped in a blanket - truly not knowing what I had done wrong.

A few years after the adoption, when I was comfortably calling him Dad, I started to wonder about my bio-dad. I had friends who had "step-dads" because they knew and had relationships with their bio-dads.

Why didn't I? Did I do something wrong?

I spent the better part of my childhood, and if I'm being honest, the better part of my life, truly believing it was my fault he didn't want me. Nothing else made any sense. Maybe if I was a better kid, he would have wanted to see me. Maybe he wanted a son. Maybe if I was smarter, more talented, more anything... The saddest part is, I was convinced if I closed my eyes and concentrated hard enough the subconscious part of myself could be awakened and I could become someone else. I would be lying if I said I didn't practice this theory almost every day, hoping to one day open my eyes to someone else my bio-dad would want.

When I realized that theory was far-fetched, or that it just wasn't working - I started to keep a journal addressed to him. I was convinced at some point in his life he would want me and he would want to know me. Maybe he did and I just didn't know because my parents wouldn't tell me. Imagination of a child has endless variations of why. So I would write in this journal every night, documenting every minute detail of my day. From what I wore to what route we took on the bus. I tried to capture EVERY possible second, so when the chance came to share it with him it would have been like he was there the whole time.

This entire time I hid how I was feeling from my parents. I knew I needed to be grateful for what I had, and at this point and time, let's just say my parents were not in a place where they could be understanding of what I was going through. Didn't help they were fighting all of the time either. On several occasions my dad would storm out of the house and be gone for days and sometimes weeks.

Naturally, every time he left I blamed myself. I had already been rejected by my bio-dad, so if my real dad left too, it had to be my fault. What other reason could there have been? At least, that's what I thought.

I spent time searching for my bio-dad when I was 14. I knew his name and the state he resided in. I would spend my lunch period scouring the internet for any details that I could find. I remember I once found a man I believed to be him. I called and left a voice message. When I didn't get a response I tried again. A kind woman, with a calming voice answered the phone, "Is this Robyn?" she asked rhetorically.

When I let out a sigh because truthfully I thought I had found him and didn't know what to say, she told me her husband was not my bio-dad. She asked what had happened and I poured my heart out to her. They say it's easier to talk to a stranger, I think in my case it was easier to talk to someone who wanted to know. At the end of the conversation she brought her husband on the line too and they both wished me the best of luck and that was it. Back to square one.

When my parents found out I was searching for my bio-dad they went behind my back (or so it felt) and paid for a report that provided all of his information. They wanted to warn him, I was trying to find him.

After my bio-dad abandoned me. After the fighting and feeling all alone for years... My parents wanted to warn him. Talk about priorities.

When I found out what my parents did I was even more hurt and felt more betrayed than I ever had before. I also started stalking the phone bill, because back in these days the calls were made on a landline phone and the bill provided all of the numbers that were called. Just as I planned, I found that California number way too easily.

I snuck on the phone during my first period (forgetting about the time difference between East and West Coast) and dialed the number I had copied down. I have never shaken so much in my life. As the first ring buzzed in my hear, my heart started to jump or stop or change, I thought I was going to pass out. When the man on the other end of the phone, barely whispered hello, all I could say was, "Dad?"

"No. And don't call here again." Click.

I dropped the phone and started balling. Excused myself to the bathroom. I blocked the rest of that day out, too painful. I just remember thinking no one understood and how could they? I was all alone.

Ironically, when all of the health issues transpired with my kidneys, the reason my parents even had my bio-dad's contact information is because of that incidence. Full circle, if you will.

Fortunately, for me. I have a good relationship with my dad now. He and my mom have completely changed, and I am sure I will be writing a lot more on all of it. I am currently working on dealing with all of my "dad" issues, we'll call them and look forward to one day being able to accept myself and know (and truly believe) nothing relating to either my bio-dad abandoning me or other problems with my dad, were my fault.

I know how easy it is to look at this situation and say, of course it wasn't my fault. I have told myself this 100 times. However, I know when I accept myself for who I am, believe I am worthy of anything I desire (relationship, love, etc.) that my feelings will coincide with what I know.

This is part of my path in finding this authentic version of myself and being able to share this with anyone willing to read this now mini-novel, is the greatest peace I have experience with it so far.