Day 59 - 07:25am, 28 February 2019
I fell asleep last night watching a
TV programme about grown-up ‘foundlings’ - babies who are abandoned by their
families, left on doorstops etc. to be found by others, and so have no idea of
who their families are or how they came to be found where they were. The
premise of the programme is that they would try to fill in that back story for
them, using specialist search agencies and DNA sampling. I have to admit to
being deeply uneasy about the use of genetics in this regard.
The problem is that, by and large,
the people that are currently having their DNA sampled are doing so out of
curiosity, they are looking to trace who their ancestors are. It’s about
creating their own history, but the matches that are being made are being made
in the present, so they are potentially rewriting not just their own, but
others’ stories in the here and now. It's no longer history.
I was adopted as a baby. I had a
back story, but it felt like the preface was missing. It bothered me less as a child, but more so when I went off to
university and in my twenties. Maybe part of me finding myself as an adult was
in first filling in the gaps for that baby. The good thing isyou aren’t just
handed over your adoption papers, you have to speak with someone so that they
can help you process it and talk you through the options open to you for trying
to contact your parents. Dinosaur that I am, DNA sampling was not one of them.
I am conscious that if one of my
children ever decides to have their DNA sampled, it may reveal the half of the
back story I do not know. Given that he actively walked away from us, it seems
unlikely that my biological father's family is aware of us. They say that blood
is thicker than water, but personally, I think sometimes it is better to let
sleeping dogs lie.
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