My Grandpa is going to be having a little heart procedure done next week. Something to help open a clogged valve if I got the story correct. No heart surgery is little, but in the scheme of things it will be relatively non-invasive and he should be home and recovering very quickly. We’re praying for you Grandpa.
There’s a little bit of an interesting story about my relationship with my Grandpa. By relationship, I mean the blood kind. When I was 18, my dad and I fought a fair amount. We have very different personalities and don’t argue with each other very well so there ended up being a ton of days where we would barely talk to each other. I blame it on the teenage hormones.
One day, my mom decided to tell me a big family secret. My grandpa wasn’t really my biological grandpa. Apparently my Grandma had a previous marriage. She had the first three kids with that guy. He turned out to be a real ass and she ended up leaving him when the kids were young…just starting grade school if I have the facts right.
Then she ended up with my Grandpa who helped raise the first three as well as three more that they had together.
Very fascinating stuff. I still never figured out why or how it ended up being a secret. It didn’t change how I felt about my Grandpa. He was still the guy who kept the house too cold, didn’t like people drinking at the table, took pictures any time more than two family members were in the same room, and always seemed to enjoy getting hugged even if we wasn’t really comfortable having it happen.
I didn’t love him one ounce less when I heard the news. I ended up respecting him a whole lot more, though. Anybody who would raise kids from a previous marriage and treat those kids like his own deserves a lot of respect in my mind.
Thinking about stuff like that always reminds me that we are someday going to have to explain to the kids that I am not their DNA-dad. We knew from day one that we were not going to keep it a secret, but I’m still not sure exactly when we will tell them. It’s one of those weird things where it wouldn’t make sense to them now since they don’t really know how babies are made, but by the time they are old enough to understand it might end up being an awkward conversation.
Any advice?
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From an adoption point of view, most experts agree that its best to tell them as young as possible, so that when they’re teenagers and someone asks when they were told they were adopted, there answer is, I have no idea; I’ve always known.
In your case, I just don’t know what would be best. Adoption defines our children’s lives probably more than having one surrogate parent since the surrogate didn’t “give up” the parent. Still, I’d think sooner rather than later would be best since it will seem like less of a big deal.
The fact that I’m not biologically related to my kids, doesn’t change a whole lot (except when I fill out medical history forms), and I try to make sure my kids understand that each and every day (mostly indirectly, we don’t dwell of the fact).
Thanks for the advice, Brian.
The part that is going to be tricky is that it won’t really be possible for it to make any sense to them until they understand how babies are really made which will push it out a few years I’m sure.
So, we’ll probably explain the donor dad thing at that time.
I’ve had to give careful consideration to the whole DNA topic too. I’ve got some very evil aunts who claim that my mother doesn’t belong to the man I know/knew as grandpa.
Even to my grandparents dying days, they maintained that my mother was theirs. But since they’ve passed, my aunts keep pushing that topic and are pushing for a DNA test.
Part of me wants my mom to do it for health purposes that may or may not come up — but the other part of me doesn’t want to alter the memory I have of my grandparents at all.
DNA! It’s quite possibly the most bitter-sweet topic on the planet.
We adopted my oldest sons (twins) before they were two years old. They just turned eight. We told them early on when they started asking questions. The subject would come up when they would say things about being in ‘mommy’s belly’ and we’d gently correct them that they weren’t in my wife’s belly like our two younger sons were.
We never wanted to create an awkward situation where some relative or family friend blurted out a comment in front of the children that would raise the subject for the first time. So we’ve never made it a secret. We answer their occasional questions. We’ve told them that we don’t know who their original parents are (which is generally truth).
So far we haven’t had any problems with being honest and letting them digest/process the information. I hope that helps you.