I do not know my biological father (aka, sperm donor). I have zero contact with him or his family. My mom became pregnant when she was a teen and let's just say that things did not go well with sperm donor. He's an ass. And not just because he didn't want anything to do with me. He was horrible to my mother, the things he said were awful. Could it have been simply teenage stupidity? Sure, but not something I can forgive.
Not having a father was never a big issue for me. It was just my reality. The first memory I have of feeling badly about it was at a summer thing for dairy month at the library and I was with my cousins. The newspaper had taken our photo and was getting our parents names. When they asked for mine, I said my mom's name. And when they asked for my dad's name, one of my cousins replied that I didn't have a dad. I can still remember that moment clearly. I can remember how the sun was filtering through the trees and the sweet taste of ice cream on my lips from moments before. I remember the odd feeling I had as I contemplated me not having a dad.
I admit I didn't have a life shattering reaction and really haven't at all in my almost 32 years. But a seed was planted. A leaf of doubt would pop out over the years, but I still have nowhere near a full-fledged plant even today. I won't give him the credit. I learned his first name eventually, and that he wasn't a real good person. I knew my life would have been completely different if he would have been involved in my life. Upon meeting my husband, we discovered that sperm donor's mother babysat for my husband when he was a small child as they lived across the street from them. What a small fucking world, huh?
I don't know if I've been in denial of the sense of loss or what. I've never really gotten pissed-off angry about it either. How do I know if I'm denying those feelings or I just don't care?
In the long run, I have a wonderful dad (step-dad) who has been simply wonderful to my mother and I. He is my true dad in every sense of the word. He cares about me in a way that I've never been graced with. (And if it says anything at all, I'm crying now that I write about him, not sperm donor). He was there to support me with whatever I did, is proud of my accomplishments, etc. One of my best memories is being in high school and having a boyfriend break up with me. I was heartbroken and wanted to go over to my girlfriends house. He wouldn't let me drive myself, so he drove me over and picked me up. All while listening to me attempting not to cry. I love my dad. I remember the love I felt as he walked me down the aisle on my wedding day. The pride he had when he held his grandchildren for the first time. That man is a godsend to my mother and I.
I can't imagine sperm donor ever being like that. What kind of person just passes on his child? It's disconcerting to know that I have this other biological family residing in the same town. A few years back I was contemplating contacting them as I felt as I needed some medical history from them, but I chose not to go there. I wonder if they saw my engagement and wedding announcement, my children's birth announcements. Do they ever think about me?
I believe I've just accepted that sperm donor is an asshole and have chosen to move on with my life. But I still occasionally wonder, I can't help it.