When my wife Elena told me she was pregnant, I was so happy. I had no idea, though, that our bundle of joy would cause us all kinds of problems.
When Elena asked to deliver by herself, I was worried, but I trusted her. But my world fell apart when I saw our baby, who was very pale and had blonde hair. I thought Elena had cheated on me and felt betrayed.
“Explain this!” I yelled, getting very angry. “Is this even my kid?”
Elena’s eyes begged you to understand. “Marcus, check out the child. Look very closely.”
I saw that she had the same crescent-shaped scar as me on her ankle. Anger was replaced by confusion.
Elena told us that she had a rare mutant gene that explained how our baby looked. I was shocked.
The response from my family was worse. They wouldn’t take our child because they thought Elena was cheating on them.
“I don’t get it,” my mom said, her eyes getting narrow. “What kind of joke is this?”
They wouldn’t listen when I spoke up for Elena and our baby. Things got worse until I saw my mum trying to rub off the scar.
“That’s enough,” I yelled, furious. “Get out.”
Elena suggested a DNA test to show who the father is. Though I thought about it, she was right.
The test showed that I was the father. With proof in hand, I told my family what was going on.
One by one, they said they were sorry, and some of them really meant it. The last tears to fall were my mom’s.
She asked, “Can you ever forgive me?”
I’m still moved by Elena’s kind answer. “Of course we can.” “We’re family.”
That was a peaceful time for our small family. Love beat doubt and suspicion.
We learnt that family is more than blood ties; it’s also about forgiveness and being open to new ideas.
Our baby, who used to make us angry, became what held us together.
When I saw Elena and our child, I knew that our love would get us through anything.
