The Georgia Bulldogs are College Football National Champions, and my family is thrilled. I spent my freshman year at UGA before transferring to Miami University (Ohio) to be with my now-husband. But I had never been to a UGA football game–until I identified my biological father.
I never shared this photograph publicly until the Dawgs made it to the National Championship. It was taken at a home game in 2018, just months after identifying and first meeting my bio dad. He has season tickets to UGA football games just a few rows behind the storied Hedges in Sanford Stadium, and because neither he nor his sons could attend a particular game that season, he offered me the chance to take my own family.
I was thrilled. Although we had only met once or twice at that point, my bio dad thought enough of me to share this unique experience. And after I took my family to the game and texted him throughout with photos, he told me his wife said she was glad he gave me the tickets because I was so excited and had such a good time. Oh how much would change a year later.
I did not get to share my pictures publicly or the fact that I went to a game because my donor conceived status was still a secret. And I did my best to ignore the people who sat around us so that they wouldn’t ask how I knew my bio dad’s family or, perhaps worse, notice that I was his spitting image in female form. He warned me not to say I was his daughter. I was a literal secret operating in the public. It was simultaneously a wonderful time and horrific. I even worried that the people who had parking passes near us would want to engage in small talk, and what would I say?
Secrecy in donor conception is pervasive, and it has no clear boundaries. It bleeds into everything.
I am happy to now share this photograph, that I took my family to a UGA football game, and that my bio dad gave me the opportunity. I just wish this had never been a secret. And that I could have sent him a celebratory text last night.
A Donor Conceived Adult 