Off The Record
When I Found Out Why My Wife Had A Baby With Black Skin, I Stayed With Her Forever
When his wife gives birth to a baby with a black complexion, causing shock and accusations in the delivery room, Brent’s world falls apart. Brent has to make a decision that will test their love and trust for all time, as suspicion and betrayal threaten to rip their family apart.
Finally, Stephanie and I were going to become parents after five years of trying. As Stephanie felt another contraction, her palm tightened around mine, but her expression remained calm and concentrated.
Our families lingered by the door, allowing us room while remaining close enough to let them in the moment the baby arrived.
With a comforting nod from the doctor, I squeezed Stephanie’s hand.
“You’re doing great, babe,” I whispered.
She gave me a brief smile, and then the moment arrived. It’s time for all of our dreams and labors to come true.
I experienced a tangle of pride, love, and relief when the first cry broke through the air. It was only after I let out a quivering sigh that I realized I was holding my breath.
Something in the room moved as the nurse placed our little, wriggling bundle into Stephanie’s arms. Stephanie had reached out, anxious to touch our baby.
With her eyes wide with disbelief and her face devoid of color, Stephanie gazed at the infant.
Gasping, she said, “That’s not my baby,” her words stopping in her throat. “That’s not my baby!”
I blinked, not sure what to think. “What are you trying to say? What are you talking about, Steph?”
Even as the nurse clarified that this was undoubtedly our kid because they hadn’t cut the umbilical chord yet, she shook her head. It appeared as though she tried to push it away.
“Brent, look!” Her voice was getting higher, every syllable laced with panic. “She isn’t. She isn’t… I never did…”
My world swung as I glanced down at our child. Soft curls and dark skin. It seemed as if the earth had suddenly parted from beneath me.
“What the hell, Stephanie?” My voice sounded shrill and angry as it cut through the room, and I didn’t recognize it.
The nurse winced, and I caught sight of our families, transfixed in disbelief, out of the corner of my eye.
“It’s not mine!” With tears welling up in her eyes, Stephanie glanced at me and her voice broke. “That’s not possible. I didn’t share a bed with anyone else. Brent, you have to trust me; I’ve never—”
There was a dense, oppressive tension in the room as everyone left silently, leaving the three of us. I couldn’t take the treachery; I should have stayed.
“Brent, wait!” Stephanie’s voice rang out from behind me, broken and desperate, as I marched toward the door. “Please don’t leave me. I swear to you, I’ve never been with anyone else. You’re the only man I’ve ever loved.”
Her voice stopped me with its unvarnished honesty. I looked over at her. This was the woman I had been in love with for a long time, the one who supported me through all of my hardships and heartaches. Is she actually telling the truth now?
“Steph,” I replied, trying to calm down despite the internal chaos. “This is not logical. How would you describe this, exactly?
“I don’t understand it either, but please, Brent, you have to believe me.”
For the first time, I truly gazed at the child in her arms when I turned to face her again. The hair and skin still took me by surprise. But then I realized—she was using my sight. And, like me, she had a dimple on her left cheek.
I drew closer to Steph and put my hand up to cup her cheek. “Yes, I am present. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m not going to let you go. We’ll work together to resolve this.”
With tears streaming down her face, she fell on me, and I embraced my wife and daughter tightly. I don’t know how long we continued in that manner, but ultimately Stephanie fell asleep. She was worn down from the long hours of labor and the shock of our baby’s unexpected appearance.
I gently untangled myself from them and murmured, “I just need a minute. I’ll be right back.”
With swollen and puffy eyes, Stephanie nodded as she raised her head to face me. It was obvious she was afraid I would not return, but I had to leave that room. Not with the way my thoughts were racing.
Taking a deep breath, I went out into the corridor as the door clicked softly behind me, but it did not help. It was more than oxygen I needed. I was in need of clarification, answers, and a way to make sense of the insanity that had just ripped through my life.
A familiar, cutting voice cried out to me, “Brent,” piercing my thoughts like a dagger.
When I looked up, I saw my mother standing with her arms firmly folded across her chest, next to the window at the end of the hallway. Her expression was stern and disapproving, the kind that, when I was a child and knew I’d messed up, used to send shivers down my spine.
I said, “Mom,” but my voice sounded robotic and soulless. I was too tired to sit through any lecture that she was going to give.
She wasted no time at all. “After this, Brent, you can’t stay with her. You observed the infant. That isn’t your offspring. It’s not possible.”
“She is my child, I’m sure of it. I—” My voice faltered because the truth was, I wasn’t entirely sure. Not yet. And that doubt… God, that doubt was eating me alive.
Mom moved closer, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t be naive, Brent. Stephanie has betrayed you, and you need to wake up to that fact. I know you love her, but you can’t ignore the truth.”
Her remarks felt like a kick to the stomach. cheated on. My want to yell at my mother and correct her was strong, but the words stayed lodged in my throat. Because there was a tiny, bitter voice inside of me that suggested maybe she was correct.
“Mom, I… I don’t know,” I admitted, feeling the ground start to slip away from beneath my feet. “I don’t know what to think right now.”
She softened, just a little, reaching out to touch my arm. “Brent, you need to leave her. You deserve better than this. She’s clearly not who you thought she was.”
I pulled away from her, shaking my head. “No, you don’t get it. This isn’t just about me. That’s my wife and daughter in there. I can’t just walk away.”
Mom gave me a pitying look. “Brent, sometimes you have to make hard decisions for your own good. You deserve the truth.”
“I moved my head away from her. Indeed, I am deserving of the truth. However, I won’t make any choices until I receive it. Mom, I’m going to investigate this thoroughly. And I’ll handle anything I find out. But I’m not giving up on Stephanie until then.”
She let out a sigh, obviously not pleased with my answer, but she didn’t press the issue. Brent, just exercise caution. “Remember not to let your feelings for her cloud your judgment.”
I turned and left after that. When I had so many uncertainties of my own, I couldn’t stand there and listen to any more of hers. I walked down to the genetics department of the hospital, each step felt more taxing than the last.
My heart was thumping in my chest by the time I got to the workplace, a constant reminder of what was at risk.
The physician explained the DNA test procedure in a cool, collected manner, treating it like any other standard examination. However, it was everything but ordinary for me.
They swabbed the inside of my cheek, collected my blood, and assured me they would have the results as quickly as possible.
I paced the cramped waiting room for hours on end, mentally going over everything. I couldn’t stop picturing Stephanie’s face and the way she was staring at me, pleading with me to believe her.
And the child had my dimples and eyes. Those details were like a lifeline to my heart. However, I would hear my mother’s voice in my mind telling me that I was foolish for not realizing the situation.
Finally, the call came. I could barely hear the doctor’s voice over the roar of blood in my ears. But then the words cut through the noise: “The test confirms that you are the biological father.”
First, relief washed over me like a wave, and then I felt a piercing shame that made my breath catch. How was I ever to question her? How could I have allowed those doubtful thoughts to germinate in my mind?
However, the doctor was not done.
She gave an explanation of recessive genes and how a child could have features that have been passed down through generations. Scientifically speaking, it made logic, but it didn’t make my guilt for not believing Stephanie go away.
Now that I knew the truth, I still felt like a complete moron. I had allowed uncertainty to seep in and ruin the day that ought to have been the happiest of our lives.
With the results clasped in my palm like a lifeline, I headed back to the hotel.
Stephanie gazed up at me when I answered the door, optimism shining in her eyes that I didn’t deserve. In three swift steps, I crossed the room and extended the paper to her.
She read with trembling hands, and suddenly broke down, tears of relief running down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry I doubted you.”
She shook her head, pulling me close, our daughter nestled between us. “We’ll be okay now,” she said softly.
I silently vowed to protect my family no matter what happened to us or who tried to break us up as I hugged them both. I would never again allow doubt or judgment to stand between my wife and my child.
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