Finding Family

Like most of us, Joe Weatherby told himself stories about his family and background to make sense of his life.

Some explained personal behaviors – like why, as a Russian Jew, he felt such an affinity for the Irish – while others seemingly justified things that happened – such as why his father abandoned him and his sister when they were young.

But fictions only satisfy for so long before we need to know the truth – about our families, our lives and ourselves.

It was that desire to understand that drove Weatherby, like 26 million others and counting, according to MIT Technology, to at-home consumer DNA testing – a market estimated to eclipse $1 billion globally in the next three years, according to a 2018 KPMG report, as people search for answers related to their health and ancestry.

But, as secrets taken to the grave in years past suddenly come to light, what happens when they don’t match the stories we’ve been telling ourselves? For Weatherby, these new revelations included startling paternity results, hidden half-siblings and unexpected genetic lineages.

Such discoveries force us to reorder life events and information in uncomfortable and sometimes painful ways, says clinical psychologist Karin Lawson, Psy.D., president of the Miami-Dade/Monroe chapter of the Florida Psychological Association.

“New information about oneself or one’s family history may take some adjustment, depending on how much is emotionally riding on any new revelation,” she says. “Some come to this experience with mild curiosity, while others have been searching and wondering for years.”

Dr. Lawson likens the process to a reader’s burning desire to know how a novel will end, rather than tolerating the unknown.

“Our brains like to create stories with a beginning, middle and an end, particularly when we don’t have all of the information,” she says. “Some of us have a really strong desire to complete the picture, while others can wait it out or not even finish the book. Hopefully, in the end, such discoveries can bring to life a new, cohesive story that makes sense for us.”

We interviewed three individuals* with South Florida roots who rewrote their histories after taking DNA tests – some with happy endings and others that continue to evolve. Here are their touching stories. 

Weatherby’s brother-in-law figured it out before anyone else. An amateur genealogist, he quickly discovered something wasn’t quite right after his wife took a 23andMe test. He just wasn’t sure how to tell her that her father was not who she thought he was.

“When Dutch ancestry showed up in her DNA, that was the dead giveaway,” says Weatherby, 38, who lives in Boynton Beach. “We were both told we were 100 percent Ashkenazi Jewish. It called into question everything we believed about ourselves.”

As his sister started putting together the clues and having conversations with their mother, who had undergone fertility treatments, she realized she came from a sperm donor. 

“My sister and mother spoke, and my sister insisted they tell me. My mother called me and said there was a chance my sister and I were not entirely blood-related. At first, I told myself that I wouldn’t take a DNA test – I didn’t want it to impact anything with my sister because she’s everything to me,” says Weatherby, whose mother passed away from a brain tumor last year. “We didn’t want anything to come between us, and, thankfully, it hasn’t. We wouldn’t let it.”

When Weatherby decided to take the test and learned that the man who abandoned him and his sister after their parents divorced was not his biological father, he felt a sense of relief. It also turned out that he and his sister are half-siblings who came from separate sperm donors.

“I never looked like [the man whom he thought was his] father,” he says. “I always felt I looked Irish or European – I’m fair, tall. And, it’s going to sound insane, but I think I always felt an affinity for where I’m actually from.”

Weatherby’s ethnicity results included European Jewish (50 percent); England, Wales and northwestern Europe (30 percent); and Ireland and Scotland (14 percent).

He soon found not only his “bio dad” online but also five bio half-siblings, whom he has since met in person. His bio dad, Kevin, is a Ph.D. geneticist who welcomed the news – and his newly discovered children – with open arms. He has even hosted his bio kids for dinner at his home with his wife and bio sons whom he raised.

In contrast, Weatherby’s sister’s biological father declined contact, though she has established a positive rapport with several of her own bio half-siblings.

“My bio dad has been so open and embracing of all of us, which is the exact opposite of my sister’s experience,” he says. “I am devastated for her. I would trade with her if I could.”

Their mother’s world was also overturned by their discovery. 

“My sister and I were her pride and joy, and this made her feel insecure,” Weatherby says. “It was very painful for her because she had held this secret for so many years. Mom and I always had Thursday night dinners where she would talk about family and loyalty. While I couldn’t be happier to know my bio family and have them in my life, I don’t think I can quite call them true family yet.”

Family is a label that not only has to be earned but also transcends the blood connection, he says: “What I have learned is that blood is important, but it’s not everything. My sister and her husband and son are my family, but so are my wife and my stepdad – whom I consider my dad. Nothing will ever break those bonds.”

Donna Martin’s father still doesn’t know he has a 66-year-old daughter.

She always knew she was adopted but never had any desire to meet her birth parents. However, after she was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2015, her daughter suggested that they purchase 23andMe test kits to see what other illnesses they might be predisposed to.

“I didn’t want my two grandsons to be blindsided by a catastrophic illness, so, I agreed, not expecting to discover anything regarding my birth parents,” says Martin, who lives in Coconut Creek.

When the website revealed her half-brother on her biological father’s side, she was shocked, she says: “It was the last thing I expected or was looking for.”

After reaching out, they started communicating and theorized that Martin’s mother was forced to give up her daughter for adoption due to the scandal of an out-of-wedlock pregnancy in the 1950s.

“My bio dad had told my brother that my bio mom, his then-girlfriend, just disappeared, and he was never able to find her,” she says. “We’re assuming that, when she told her parents she was pregnant – even though she wasn’t a minor at 22 – they just whisked her away since we believe she came from a Catholic family.”

After Martin was born, her mother allegedly tried to contact Martin’s father, but he had enlisted in the Army and had shipped out. Her mother passed away in the 1990s.

“For whatever reason, we don’t think they ever met again,” she says. “And, at this time, he is still unaware of having a daughter, though he did go on to have six more kids.”

Martin and her brother are on the fence about telling their father about her, she says: “My bio brother has asked me repeatedly if I want his dad to be told. I am not pushing for that but letting them make the decision. I do think he may want to know so there is some closure regarding why his girlfriend just disappeared.”

Despite the shock of her discovery, Martin’s sense of self remains firmly intact.

“In the end, I am still me,” she says. “None of this has changed me in any way.”

Before his first son was born, Stephen Lavigne would often study a photo of himself as a newborn. When he finally got to hold his son in his arms, he dug the photo out one more time to compare.

“It was the weirdest feeling – I felt like I was holding myself, if you went back in time by 33 years,” says the Connecticut resident. “He looked so much like me.” 

It was the first time Lavigne, who was adopted in South Florida at birth, met someone biologically related to him. The next time would be more than two decades later, after he signed up for Ancestry.

Lavigne, who turns 53 this month, always knew he was adopted, which he wore as a badge of honor.

“I was so close with my [adoptive] parents – I forgot about it. My dad and I looked alike and had the same mannerisms – it was the whole nature versus nurture debate,” says Lavigne, whose adoptive parents have since passed away. “I had a really great childhood, growing up in a Jewish community in New York when adoption wasn’t that common. My parents always told me they’d let me know whatever I wanted, but I just wasn’t interested.”

Several decades later, Lavigne’s kids expressed a desire to know more about their paternal bloodline. 

“I said I’d get around to it,” he recalls. “I just didn’t know what the need was.”

Then a friend who had also been adopted pointed out the possibility that his biological parents could be searching for him. When Ancestry sent an email about a promotion, Lavigne thought it was a sign.

“I signed up, spit into the tube and sent it off,” he says. “All of a sudden, it’s Saturday morning, I’m sitting on my back porch and I get an email saying, ‘Your results are here!’ I thought, ‘Oh wow, this is real!’”

Lavigne’s ethnicity results – 51 percent Italian, the rest Scandinavian, British and Welsh – were not a huge surprise. But, then, his wife, who was looking over his shoulder, pointed out that he was ignoring the most important information.

There was a relative match – and that person was his biological father.

“I was excited but shell-shocked – kind of like winning the lottery,” Lavigne recalls. “It took a couple days to sink in. Then I started communicating with everyone, and the reaction from all angles has been pure joy.”

Ever since, Lavigne and his family have been in touch regularly with his biological parents. His father lives in South Florida with a new wife, while his mother lives in North Carolina.

“They are so thrilled I had this great upbringing and I am living well,” he says. “They had been looking for me for a long time and worried they would go to their graves never knowing what became of me.”

While he’s still an only child, Lavigne does have 17 first cousins on his bio mother’s side. 

“I’m glad I did this,” he says. “I got really lucky. I’m not sure I was psychologically and emotionally ready for it before. If my bio parents had met my adoptive parents, the irony is they would have gotten along. They would have really appreciated each other.” O

*All names have been changed for privacy reasons.