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Dear birth mother and father, How are you? Where are you? Who are you? I grew up with two Italian-American parents who have given me the world and more. I had as happy a childhood as anyone, the majority of my time spent running around outside in the grass and sunshine of a small, safe New England suburb. I have had many identities as an athlete, student, traveler and artist. I am in my third year of college in New York City. From the outside my life looks fantastic, a true American dream. I’ve gotten everything I’ve ever wanted—moving to this big city to fulfill bigger dreams—and I should have absolutely nothing to complain about. I have been so fortunate, physically, financially, emotionally. I have the most caring and supporting family. I have no reason to be sad. And yet you cannot help how you feel, can you? You cannot apologize for your emotions because you are not in control of them. Or you can have control of them, but only after some time. I’m not sure—I’m still trying to figure that out. But the uneasiness and anxiety over my past is something I still struggle to understand every day. I have no immediate reason to be anxious, but I am. Few people would guess this, because outwardly I am fairly energetic and optimistic. It is inside my own head, especially when I am alone, that this fog comes over me and I feel an unending loneliness, even with the knowledge that, not too far away, there are people who care a lot about me. I guess I used to cry about this a lot, when I was four—at least that’s what my mom told me this past winter break. I just learned, after twenty years, that I was not merely put into a foster home; I was abandoned in a park. Forest Park, a truly ironic twist of fate, given that my home in America is a five-minute drive from another Forest Park.

The DNA discovery situation is unique in several ways. It’s unique to our time because of our access to science, and it’s unique in mental health because of the combination of issues triggered throughout the experience. Those who experience an unexpected DNA discovery may include adoptees, NPEs (not parent expected), and donor conceived individuals. Although they take different paths to their DNA discoveries, the emotional issues they experience along the way are quite related and, in some cases, identical. Yet, the mental health community isn’t at all well-prepared to deal with the DNA discovery experience. Astonishingly, there are practicing therapists who cannot engage their empathy when facing a DNA discovery client. I hear stories of NPEs leaving sessions feeling worse than they did going in because the therapists dismissed their pain, just as their known families did. After seeking help to sort out their feelings and cope with their confusion, these clients leave with guilt added to the cornucopia of emotional turmoil, being told by therapists “he’s still your dad” or “it really hasn’t changed anything about you.” In fact, much has changed for NPEs, but as in any case of grief, it often isn’t apparent to the outside observer. I counsel as many bereaved clients on how to engage support from loved ones as I do NPEs, and that’s because we as a species are not good at dealing with emotional pain. We want it to go away, to be as short lived as possible and be something someone else deals with. The DNA discovery experience rivals most traumas—with sudden grief and loss, unwanted changes in family dynamics, and profound identity confusion, all condensed in a short period of time.