Elena and I were finally going to have a baby after years of waiting, trying, and hoping. I couldn’t wait to hug our kid, but when that day finally came, I was surprised and couldn’t believe it.
“Honey, I think I want to be alone in the delivery room,” Elena stated one day.
I didn’t think she would say that. I wondered why she didn’t want me there. I said yes since she said she had to do it by herself.
A few days later, we headed to the hospital. I kissed Elena goodbye at the threshold to the maternity unit and then had to wait.
The doctor finally came out, but the look on his face warned me something was wrong. My heart fell as I walked to Elena’s room.
It was good to know that Elena was okay.
She was holding our baby, but she didn’t seem like her usual happy self.
She looked me in the eye and showed me our baby girl. The child had blue eyes, blonde hair, and fair complexion. I felt like my heart sunk. “You cheated!” I yelled.
Elena whispered, “Marcus, I can explain,” as she grabbed for my hand.
My life changed. We are both Black, yet our child was white.
She tried to make me believe that the baby was ours, but I couldn’t understand how that could be.
“Don’t lie to me, Elena.” This can’t be my girl. “I’m not an idiot!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.
I felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest, but the nurses around us tried to calm things down.
“Marcus, please look at this,” Elena said, pointing to the little birthmark on my daughter’s foot. My brother and I had the same birthmark, and it was exactly the same.
“I have to tell you something.” Elena said, “I should have told you this a long time ago.” That’s when I learned that she had a rare recessive trait that might give a child pale complexion and features, no matter what the parents looked like.
She said she didn’t tell me before because she didn’t think our baby would be white.
I started with the infant girl. The birthmark should have been confirmation that she was my, but I had a lot of other feelings that I couldn’t handle.
What Elena says seems real. I trusted her, and eventually my anger morphed into something stronger than anything else: love and trust.
We thought our relatives would be critical of us when we brought our new baby home, but we didn’t realize they would be so harsh.
My mother and brother both called me an idiot for letting my wife fool me and encouraged me to accept the fact that the baby wasn’t mine.
They laughed at the news about Elena’s gene, stating it was made up and not true.
One night, I heard the door to my daughter’s room open, so I went to check on her. My mom was there with a washcloth that was wet. She was trying to erase my baby’s birthmark to show me that Elena was lying.
At that point, I knew I had had enough.
I told my mom to go. “Mom, you have to accept our baby or get out of our lives,” I yelled at her.
The yelling woke up. Elena woke up. I claimed I was sorry for not standing up to her sooner when she started to weep.
Even though I knew we didn’t have to prove anything to anyone, I still agreed.
The results showed what we thought they would: the baby was ours. I was her true dad.
When we showed them the test results, my family said they were sorry. Some of the apologies were real, while others were awkward.
At that moment, I felt at peace. It’s not like other families, but it’s mine and it’s great.
