Like Kira, I am a donor-conceived person. In high school I found out that my parents used an anonymous donor to conceive me. I was blindsided by this revelation, but also curious about my roots (specifically why I looked the way I did; I always felt like "the black sheep" in my Irish family.) But as most things are, it was complicated. My father had passed away three years earlier, and I was still grieving this tremendous loss. Learning that he wasn't my biological father added to that grief, especially because I would never be able to have a conversation with him about it. It didn't change how I felt about his parental role in my life, but it did mess with my sense of trust and identity.  All of a sudden, half of me felt like a question mark. Back then there were no commercial DNA tests (like 23 & Me and Ancestry) and the fertility clinic my parents used didn't keep records, so there was no information available to help me cope with this life-changing news. I was set adrift, and for the next fifteen years internalized what felt like a dirty secret. I didn't want to tell anyone because I was afraid of somehow "ruining my dad's legacy/memory".

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When I turned 30, I realized how important it was to solve this mystery. Part of growing up is taking control of your own narrative, and I was tired of “hiding”.  I also became keenly aware of my biological clock, and the thought of my future child inheriting these question marks activated me to find answers. So I finally took a DNA test.

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I discovered that I'm 63% Spanish-Cuban.

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The answer only led to more questions, and so began a six-year rollercoaster of a journey that I'm still on to this day. I found my biological father (the donor) during the pandemic, but unfortunately he was not interested in connecting.  This was really disappointing, but ultimately I came to the conclusion that it's his loss.  However, last year I matched with a half-sister!  She and I have connected and have a lot in common; I totally adore her!  I always say she was my “happy ending” in all of this.

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My mom’s unconditional support has been the other “happy ending” in my experience.  It means so much to me that she supports my advocacy work and encourages me to be vulnerable about sharing my own story because in some ways it’s her story, too.  Her love is truly limitless.  I know I am really lucky to have her “on my team” because many donor-conceived people are ostracized by their families when they speak out about their status/story. 

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I discovered the donor-conceived community shortly after my DNA test results, and this support system was a pillar of strength for me. Most donor-conceived people live with this secret thinking they are alone, but having a community of people with similar experiences was a game-changer.  It was also inspiring.  Over the past few years, I have written essays and spoken on several panels about my own experience, encouraging parents to be transparent with their kids as soon as possible.  I really enjoy talking to recipient parents, other donor-conceived people, and those who are not donor-conceived about our issues; I feel the best form of advocacy I can offer to help my community is through art and communication. 

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I found there was very little representation of donor-conceived people’s perspective in the media and in general. Since “coming out” publicly as a donor-conceived person three years ago, I have witnessed how important it is for people to hear our stories and know that we exist. I wrote a song called “No More Waiting” for my band Erin Maya and The Reckoning about my donor-conceived journey back in 2018. We started playing it at shows, and it would spark conversations. I realized how important it was to make art about this topic to keep initiating these conversations.  I started wondering: “What if this song was part of a musical?”

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“The Complete Picture” began as an idea in 2019 while sitting at a diner with my friend/fellow collaborator Riley Thomas. I told him I wanted to write a show about a donor-conceived person that not only raised awareness about our issues, but also brought people together. There is so much tension between the donor-conceived community and recipient parents, and I believe this tension is the reason why conversations are often hurtful and not constructive. Someone once said “Hurt people – hurt people.”  This can go both ways. I wanted to focus on the importance of having these conversations and making amends with family while there's still time. Centering the show around universal themes such as grief and identity would make the story more accessible and relatable to any audience member.  I believe theatre has the ability to educate and foster empathy in a way no other medium can, and what better genre of music to express such raw, difficult emotions than rock music?

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Well, they say “write what you know.”