Marcus’s world collapses upon first seeing his newborn. He is prepared to go, believing that his wife Elena has deceived him. However, she divulges a secret before he can, making him doubt everything. Is love sufficient to keep them united?
When my wife told me we were going to be parents, I was overjoyed. We had been attempting for some time and were eager to have our first kid. However, Elena dropped a bombshell one day as we were talking about the birth plan.
She stated in a quiet but forceful voice, “I don’t want you in the delivery room.”
I experienced a gut-punch sensation. How come? Why not?
I could not look Elena in the eye. “I simply have to finish this task by myself. Please be considerate.”
Not that I truly understood. But I trusted Elena, and I loved her more than anything. I would respect her need if that was all she needed. That day, though, a small kernel of uneasiness germinated in my stomach.
That seed developed closer to Elena’s due date. I couldn’t ignore the feeling that a significant change was on the horizon the night before she was supposed to be induced.
We left for the hospital early the next day. At the maternity unit door, I gave Elena a kiss and watched as they wheeled her away.
The hours passed. I paced the waiting area, sipped awful coffee in excess, and looked at my phone every two minutes. A doctor finally appeared. My heart sank at the sight of his face. There was an issue.
With a solemn tone, he asked, “Mr. Johnson?” “You’d better come with me.”
A thousand terrible thoughts flashed through my head as I followed the doctor down the corridor. Elena, was she alright? The child? The doctor pushed open the door of the delivery room as we arrived. Needing to see Elena badly, I ran in.
There she stood, looking worn out but still alive. A moment of relief passed through me, and then I saw the bundle in her arms.
The baby, our baby, had blonde hair and skin as pale as new snow. When it opened its eyes, the blue color shocked us.
“What the hell is this?” My voice sounded weird and distant as I heard myself say.
Elena turned to face me, fear and love mixed together in her gaze. “Marcus, I can explain—”
But I wasn’t paying attention. A crimson mist of rage and betrayal enveloped me. “What exactly is to be explained? that you were unfaithful to me? that my child isn’t here.”
“No! Marcus, please—”
With my voice up, I interrupted her. Elena, please tell the truth! I am not a moron. It’s not our child at all!”
Around us, nurses hustled in an attempt to defuse the situation, but I was uncontrollably angry. It was as if someone had torn my heart out of my chest. She couldn’t have done this to me. To ourselves?
“Marcus!” My fury was tempered by Elena’s piercing tone. Take a look at the infant. Take a close look.
Her tone paused me for some reason. Elena pointed to the baby’s right ankle as I cast a quick peek downward.
There it was, a tiny blemish in the shape of a crescent, plain as day. The same one that I had had since birth, and that other family members had also had.
In an instant, I lost all of my fight and was left completely bewildered. I muttered, “I don’t understand.”
Elena sucked in a breath. “I have to let you know about something. Something I ought to have revealed to you years ago.”
Elena started to explain after the baby calmed down.
She’d had some genetic testing done while we were engaged. The findings indicated that, regardless of the parents’ appearance, she possessed a rare recessive gene that may result in a child having light features and pale complexion.
Her voice quivered as she replied, “I didn’t tell you because the odds were so slim.” “I also didn’t believe it would be significant. The only thing that mattered was that we loved one other.”
With my head whirling, I slumped into a chair. “But how…?”
Elena clarified, “You have to have the gene too.”
“Both parents can carry it without knowing, and then…” She pointed at our infant.
No longer aware of the chaos surrounding her, our little baby was sleeping soundly at this point.
I kept looking at the kid. The birthmark proved without a shadow of a doubt, but my mind was lagging behind.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you,” Elena whispered, her eyes welling with sorrow. I was afraid, but as time went on, it didn’t seem as significant. This is not something I ever thought would happen.”
I was itching to be furious. I was still part of that. But when I stared at our small, picture-perfect baby and at Elena, who was weak and tired, I saw something else becoming stronger. Love. fierce, watchful affection.
I got up, went over to the bed, and encircled the two of them with my arms. “We will resolve this,” I whispered into Elena’s hair. “Together.”
I had no idea that our problems had only just begun.
It should have been a happy moment to bring our baby home. It was more like to entering a combat zone.
My family had been eager to welcome the newest member. However, chaos ensued the moment they saw our happy, fair-skinned child of joy.
“What kind of joke is this?” Denise, my mother, stared from the infant to Elena with narrowed eyes and demanded.
I moved in front of my wife to protect her from the scolding looks. It’s serious, Mom. This is your granddaughter.”
My sibling Tanya snorted. “Get moving, Marcus. It’s unrealistic to ask us to accept that.
I emphasized, attempting to maintain composure. “It’s true,” “Elena and I share a unique gene. The physician went over everything with me.
But they were not paying attention. Speaking softly, my brother Jamal drew me away. I’m sure you adore her, but you have to face reality, bro. It isn’t your child.
Anger building in my chest, I shook him off. Jamal, that’s my child. Examine the birthmark located on the ankle. It like mine exactly.
However, my family was unconvinced no matter how many times I tried to reassure them, showed them the birthmark, or asked for forgiveness.
They treated every visit like an interrogation, with Elena being the target of their suspicions.
A week or two after we had brought the baby home, I woke up one night to the sound of the nursery door creaking open. My mother was leaning over the crib when I suddenly became aware of her presence and scuttled down the corridor.
“What are you doing?” I startled her by hissing.
Mother recoiled, appearing remorseful. A wet washcloth was in her hand. I was shocked to learn that she had been attempting to remove the birthmark since she thought it wasn’t real.
I yelled, “That’s enough,” in a furious tone. “Move out. Right now.
“Marcus, I was just—”
“Out!” I said it again, more loudly.
Elena appeared in the corridor, looking concerned, as I steered her towards the front door. “What’s going on?”
I watched as a look of hurt and fury crossed Elena’s face as I narrated what had transpired. Despite my family’s doubts, she had shown such patience and compassion. This, however, was going too far.
Elena remarked in a low voice, “I think it’s time your family left.”
I turned to face my mother and nodded. “Mom, you have to stop. I love you, but” You either get to be a part of our lives or you don’t accept our child. It really is that easy.”
Denise’s expression grew stern. “You’re choosing her over your own family?”
“No,” I firmly responded. “I’m choosing Elena and our baby over your prejudice and suspicion.”
I was both relieved and saddened as I shut the door after her. I was in love with my family, but I could no longer allow their uncertainties to sabotage our joy.
We were both emotionally spent, so Elena and I kicked back on the couch. “I’m really sorry,” I drew her near as I muttered. “I should have stood up to them sooner.”
She sighed and leaned against me. “You are not at blame. I can see why they’re finding it difficult to accept. I only hope.
I kissed the top of her head and replied, “I know.” “Me too.”
The ensuing weeks passed in a flurry of restless evenings, changing diapers, and heated calls from relatives.
Elena came over to me with a determined expression in her eye one day as I was rocking the infant to sleep.
Quietly, she stated, “I believe we ought to obtain a DNA test.”
A prick in my chest was felt. “Elena, we have nothing to prove to anyone. This is our child, I know that.”
Taking my free hand in hers, she settled down next to me. “Marcus, I’m sure you think that. I adore you for that, too. Your family won’t accept this, though. Maybe we’ll be accepted at last if we can provide evidence.”
Indeed, she was correct. We were all being eroded by the persistent uncertainty.
Finally, I said, “Okay.” “Let’s do it.”
The day finally came. I held Elena’s hand so tightly that I was scared I may hurt her when we sat in the doctor’s office, Elena hugging the baby to her bosom. With a folder in his hand and an expressionless face, the doctor came in.
“Mr. and Mrs. Johnson,” he began, “I have your results here.”
I was suddenly afraid and held my breath. What if, as if by cosmic kismet, the test result was negative? How could I respond to that?
Grinning, the physician unfolded the file. “The DNA test confirms that you, Mr. Johnson, are indeed the father of this child.”
Like a tidal wave, relief crashed over me. I turned to face Elena, who was crying softly, her expression a mixture of relief and satisfaction. Grasping them both in an embrace, I had a sense of relief from my burdens.
With the test findings in hand, I convened a family gathering.
In our living room, my mother, my siblings, and a few aunts and uncles were assembled, observing the infant with a mixture of wonder and lingering doubt.
I held the test findings in front of them. With a firm voice, I said, “I know you’ve all had your doubts.” Still, it’s time to bury them. We’ve completed a DNA test.”
I shared the data with others, observing their reading of the indisputable reality. Some were astonished, some ashamed. Holding the paper, my mother’s hands trembled.
Weakly, “I… I don’t understand,” she said. ” All that recessive gene stuff was true?”
“Obviously it was,” I answered.
Everyone in my family apologized one by one. All appeared sincere, some awkward, some heartfelt. My mom was the last to finish.
“I’m really sorry,” she replied, her eyes welling with tears. “Can you ever forgive me?”
Elena got up and gave her a hug—always being more kind than I could ever be. “Certainly we can,” she said gently. “We’re family.”
I felt a sense of tranquility descend upon me as I observed them cuddle, our baby cooing gently between them. Although it may not seem like it, our small family was always ours. That was really all that mattered.
