For years, my wife Lauren and I had been waiting and wanting to be parents. There was a lot of excitement and nervousness in the delivery room. Lauren held my hand tightly the whole time I was having contractions. Even though her face was pale, she was determined. Every breath she took revealed how strong she was. Our family was waiting right outside, eager to make everyone happy as soon as the baby got there.
After the doctor nodded at me, I walked up to Lauren and said, “You’re doing great, love.” She stared at me with tired eyes before making one more effort. Then the loud, strong, life-changing scream came. I felt relief and gladness sweep over me, and my chest was tight. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until I let it out with a shaky gulp.
But the air altered as soon as Lauren held our child. At first, she looked exhausted, but soon she looked scared. “Not my baby!” she cried, and her voice shook as she held the small bundle.
When I looked down and stopped moving, I was confused. Her skin was darker than ours, and her beautiful curls were nothing like ours. I was sick to my stomach.
“What’s wrong with you, Lauren?” I didn’t mean for my voice to be so loud in the room.
She shook her head in despair, and tears streamed down her face. “I swear, James!” This doesn’t make any sense. “I’ve never—”
Our family had come in via the door, and they looked shocked. Every stare was full of anger. I never thought I would accuse my wife of anything, but I couldn’t stop thinking about them.
Lauren hugged the baby tightly and cried a much. “Please, James, trust me! Before you, I had never been with anyone else. You are the only man I have ever cared about!
I should have trusted her when she said she was desperate, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling. I tumbled toward the door. “Let me breathe.”
“Please don’t leave me!” She yelled after me.
I tried to relax in the hallway, but then my mom came in with her arms crossed and a cold expression in her eyes. “You saw that baby.” “James, don’t be blind.” You don’t own her. You let Lauren down.
I wanted to scream that she was wrong, but I wasn’t sure. “I don’t know,” I answered.
“Then face the truth,” she said. “You deserve better.”
I pushed her away. “No.” There are my wife and daughter in there. “I’m not leaving.”
I felt uneasy in my chest even as I spoke it. I needed to know. I went to the hospital’s genetics department and asked for a DNA test immediately away. They took a sample from my cheek and drew blood from it. They said the results would be ready soon. Those results were really important to me.
There was no way to wait. I couldn’t stop thinking about Lauren’s tearful face, her desperate sobs, and how tightly she gripped our child, as if her love would save her from being implicated. I kept looking at the baby’s eyes. They were my eyes. Her cheek has a small dimple that was exactly like mine. Could genes be the problem? Was I just wishing for the best?
When the phone finally rung, I thought my heart would stop. “The test shows you are the father,” the doctor said in a calm voice.
At first, I was happy, but soon I felt horrible sadness. How could I have doubted the woman who had always been there for me? How could I have let doubt ruin what should have been a wonderful time?
The doctor explained about recessive genes and how qualities that have been hidden for a long period can suddenly manifest themselves. It was logical. My great-grandmother was of mixed race, although my family didn’t talk about it much. I forgot about some genes, and now my daughter gets them, so she looks different from what everyone imagined she would.
I ran back to Lauren’s room with the test results in my hand. When she saw me, her eyes went large with worry that I would go for good. I handed her the paper. As she read, she shook her hands. Then she cried and held our baby close to her chest.
“I’m sorry,” I replied softly as I knelt down next to her. “I should have trusted you. I should have never doubted you.
She shook her head and pushed me closer. “It’s okay now,” she said in a quiet voice. “That’s all that matters.”
When I held both my mother and Lauren, I could feel the weight of the circumstance that almost broke us. My mother’s hesitation, my fear, and the quiet disapproval of others almost made this moment go away. But when I kissed Lauren’s forehead and saw our kid yawn, I told myself that I would never doubt or be far away again. I would do everything I could to protect this family from any storms that came our way.
Our daughter was no longer a question mark; she was a miracle, a message of love, history, and strength that had been passed down via her tiny body. Then I realized that the amazing truth wasn’t just in the DNA results; it was also in the deep connection we had.