‘My Father is Not My Father’: Counselling Adults Discovering Misattributed Paternity

To say that my world took a tumble when a DNA test revealed that the man who I believed to be my father was not related to me genetically (the so-called misattributed paternity) would be an understatement. I still vividly recall the exact place I was–in my kitchen, which button on the testing website changed my life forever, and what I did immediately after I realised–messaged my brother, who had done a similar test at the same time. I was in shock, disbelief, and pain, while also feeling like a half of me was suddenly gone. My husband could not understand why I was so affected, saying it did not change who I was, my mother was furious with me for the discovery (“You want to ruin our family!”), and a highly recommended psychologist I went to speak to about it was stabbing in the dark.

I felt incredibly alone, misunderstood by everyone around me and lost. Google did not help much as I simply did not know what to search for. Eventually, I stumbled across a Facebook page for people interested in DNA-based relative search. There I learned that my experience was far from unique (but not the one often spoken about) and there is a huge gap in counselling knowledge in how to support people like me. So, I decided to embark on a PhD journey studying the experiences of adults who learn about their misattributed paternity and interview counselling professionals who work with this issue to understand their approach to this presentation.

Misattributed paternity (MP) refers to the circumstance that your presumed or social father is not your biogenetic one, outside the contexts of adoption or donor conception (Cerfontyne et al., 2024). It is often a result of casual sexual relationships taking place closely to each other (often in late teens or early 20s), extramarital relationships, rape, and sex work. And it is not as rare as one might think. Blood data bank studies show that 1 to 4 per cent of all births in Western populations have misattributed paternity, with the International Society of Genetic Genealogy (2022) suggesting that the prevalence ranges from 0.3 to 13.8 per cent, depending on country, geographical location and historical period.

In most cases, the fact that a child is born from one man but is declared to be an offspring of another, is known to the mother and often the presumed/social father and the family at large, who treat it as a shameful or difficult family secret. However, many if not most children with misattributed paternity don’t know this fact about themselves – but often suspect/feel that something is amiss in their history (“Why do I have green eyes while everyone else has brown?” or “Apparently, my blood group is impossible given the blood groups of my parents”). They also feel like they don’t fit in with the rest of the family or notice the differences in how other family members treat them (“Why does my dad love my younger brother much more than me?”). You can easily imagine how influential these psychosocial experiences can be for a child's development.

While misattributed paternity has always existed, until the arrival of direct-to-consumer DNA testing (via websites such as Ancestry.com or 23andMe.com) most people with it probably never knew of it or did not have any bullet-proof ways to confirm it. Nowadays, over 40 million people have submitted their genetic profiles (Becker et al., 2024), with as many as 7 per cent of them learning the identity of their biogenetic father from the DNA databases (Guerrini et al., 2022). The simple math suggests that hundreds of thousands, even millions of people potentially have to navigate their discovery of misattributed paternity – often completely on their own and without professional support.

For those people who I interviewed and myself personally, discovering my misattributed paternity had a huge emotional impact. Shock, a massive sense of disorientation, physical sensations of losing the ground under your feet or not recognising yourself in the mirror are common. Anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts, manic obsession with the discovery – or, in contrast, complete denial can happen, too. Add to this self-doubt, shame, feeling like “a freak” or an imposter and you will get psychological symptoms highly representative of trauma. There is a clear sense of before and after, a life’s watershed moment. And like with post-traumatic growth, there is sometimes a feeling of appreciation, hope and the desire to make something meaningful out of this transformative experience.

Then there is grief; grief which is complicated and disenfranchised. There’s the loss of a known parent-child bond, the sense of betrayal by family members who kept the secret, and the grieving of a version of self that no longer exists. Often, the pain is compounded by strained family dynamics, mothers staying silent even when the truth is loud and clear, and siblings feeling challenged in their bond by newly discovered half-siblings. Then there is also rejection from newly discovered paternal relatives or a sense of mourning for the lost opportunities with them, who are often as stunned and overwhelmed by the news as the person themselves.

And it’s life-long. Yes, the first few years may be the hardest, but the experience isn’t linear or with a defined end. For me, it took six years and a dissertation before I could speak about my misattributed paternity more or less calmly – and even now, the tears still catch me off guard. This isn’t just a phase, an adjustment, or a tough season to move through. It becomes part of who you are. You don’t just go through misattributed paternity – you become a person with misattributed paternity. It shapes your identity, your relationships, and your worldview in ways that are ongoing and often invisible to others.

A highly supportive, person-centred, empathy-led counselling space can be the only place where people with misattributed paternity can say things out loud without fearing some sort of backlash. Which is why providing validation without judgement and preconceived ideas is so critical for these clients. Please also be careful not to repeat common and invalidating mistakes of diminishing the discovery significance and the associated experience, for example, by saying “nothing has changed”, “your dad is still your dad” or questioning the need to search for the paternal relatives (which is a very common post-discovery coping need).

Given the complexity of misattributed paternity experiences, it requires not only excellent rapport building skills but also a solid professional experience and a large therapeutic toolbox. Trauma-informed practices, attachment-focused modalities, and grief counselling can help with the emotional avalanche, while solution-focused approaches and cognitive-behavioural therapy help navigating more practical issues, such as whether to contact the new relatives or how to approach a conversation with the mother. Practitioners who prefer having a more formalised training in supporting clients with misattributed paternity, would benefit from adoption-informed training, as there are many parallels in experiences of adoptees and those with misattributed paternity.

However, even the best counselling will not replace the healing powers of finding others with misattributed paternity. There are quite a few Facebook communities specifically for misattributed paternity discoveries and a quick search using the terms “MPE” (misattributed parentage/paternity experience/event), “NPE” (not-the-parent expected), or “DNA surprise” will be a good starting point. Some of these groups have strict approval processes and others may pursue commercial interests in addition to providing support, so it’s best to navigate them carefully. In my experience, the Facebook page “DNA Detectives” is a great resource to start with, especially as it is not solely for misattributed paternity and can feel less vulnerable.

There are also podcasts on discovery experiences and books that many people with misattributed paternity find extremely helpful, like “being in group therapy”. A podcast I recommend is “Everything is Relative” with Eve Sturges, who is a therapist and a person with misattributed paternity herself. And for more general information on misattributed paternity and similar experiences, the current state of policy and advocacy (mainly US-based), the website https://righttoknow.us is the go-to place. Now that I have finished my PhD dissertation, I am planning to continue raising awareness of misattributed paternity issues in Australia and beyond, including through my dedicated website https://www.notmyfathersdaughter.me.

Misattributed paternity isn’t something that you only see in movies or read in books about. The chances are you know someone who has either already learnt about their misattributed paternity or is likely to learn about it either through a DNA test or a medical procedure. As counsellors, we are already well-equipped in supporting these people, as many of our core skills–deep listening, validation, empathic attunement–are exactly what helps. Add to this the therapeutic approaches and the specialised knowledge mentioned here – and we are not far off from providing the kind of informed, compassionate care that can make all the difference for someone navigating this life-altering discovery.

Alyona Cerfontyne, M.Couns, GradDipScMd, GradDipPsy, ACA Member
Alyona Cerfontyne is a registered counsellor, educator, and researcher specialising in complex relationship dynamics and the psychosocial impact of misattributed paternity. She is the founder of ALY’S PLACE (www.alysplace.com.au), a counselling practice in Mornington, Victoria, and creator of the APT Model of Couples Counselling – a neuroscience-informed couples counselling framework. Alyona’s research explores identity disruption, coping, and relational repair following unexpected biogenetic discoveries, contributing to specialist counselling approaches for affected individuals and families.
As founder of TAPA – The Aly’s Place Academy (www.tapa.academy), she also trains emerging counsellors and delivers advanced professional development in couples work. Alyona integrates evidence-based modalities with experiential practices, aiming to bridge academic knowledge and therapeutic application. She lives on the Mornington Peninsula and travels the world with her husband and son.