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cormacThey say that blood is thicker than water. I am a walking refutation of this axiom. Those I am closest to, my nearest and dearest friends, share not one drop of blood with me. There are those who took me in and raised me as their own, who love and care for me and call me son, but I am not of their blood either. As I near my bloodline, I find the people in it more distant and unknown. I've spent very little time with my grandmother, only once met two of my aunts and one of my uncles, and have never had a second occasion to break bread with my half-brother. My father has only talked with me for five minutes. My mother has rejected me utterly with spite on her lips. And the one person to whom I am closest in blood, my own brother born of the same woman and sired by the same man, whose face is a mirror of my own, doesn't even know I exist. No, my blood is not thicker than water, and I have no reason to continue its line.
At 5:00 p.m. today, I will be going in for a vasectomy. This has been a wish of mine ever since I learned of the procedure. My experiences with children over the past decade have only strengthened my resolve not to sire one of my own. If, one day in the future, I choose to care for a child, it will be one of my choosing, and I shall love it as I was loved by my parents.
Please don't think of this as a sad thing; it's not. It is instead a celebration of nurture over nature, and of being able to truly choose a family. And despite the fact that my mom's been trying to talk me out of it since high school, it's a celebration of the decision she and dad made when they canceled their trip to Hawaii to pick me up from the agency, and of the power of our bond.
At 5:00 p.m. today, I will be going in for a vasectomy. This has been a wish of mine ever since I learned of the procedure. My experiences with children over the past decade have only strengthened my resolve not to sire one of my own. If, one day in the future, I choose to care for a child, it will be one of my choosing, and I shall love it as I was loved by my parents.
Please don't think of this as a sad thing; it's not. It is instead a celebration of nurture over nature, and of being able to truly choose a family. And despite the fact that my mom's been trying to talk me out of it since high school, it's a celebration of the decision she and dad made when they canceled their trip to Hawaii to pick me up from the agency, and of the power of our bond.
