I remember the day I met you four years ago. We were brought together in the name of volunteerism. As we sat in the conference room awaiting our assignment, small talk ensued. The usual niceties were exchanged. The typical “what do you do?” and “how do you know so-in- so?” followed. Conversations soon turned more personal.
You turned to me and asked, “Are you married? Do you have children?”
“Yes, I’m married, and I have three children,” I replied.
“What are their ages?” you asked.
I took a deep breath. This is where this conversation always gets uncomfortable for me. Strangers ask questions that dig a little too deep sometimes. I told you my son was 15 and my daughters were 7 and 5. There are always questions about the gap in age between my son and his sisters. “Why’d you wait so long to have more children? Why would you want such a large gap between them? Didn’t you feel like you were starting over?”
You asked these questions, and I simply replied, “My son is autistic. He was 9 when his first sister was born. That was the time we chose to add another child to our family.”
Your response astonishes me to this day. I expected silence. I expected a change of subject. What I did not expect was this:
“Wait! Let me get this straight. You had an autistic child. You proved you could create a damaged child, then you intentionally had additional children? Why would you tempt fate like that? Has the level of your selfishness ever occurred to you?”
My heart raced. My face burned. Rage poured through me. The chatter around the room stopped, and that silence was deafening as I struggled to process what was just said to me. I somehow found a way to suppress my anger and said:
“Never have I thought of surrounding my oldest child with a sibling’s love as a selfish act. My daughters love their brother. He will always be surrounded by people who love him unconditionally… just as he is. As you have just proven to me, the world can be a harsh, cruel place. Love doesn’t exist in every corner, but it always will exist in every corner of his world because of the love of his family.”
It has been four years since that day, and I still think of you from time to time. My son graduated from high school this year. He was the first in his graduating class to walk across the stage, and there in the stands were his sisters. He has three sisters now. They were all cheering him on that night. The youngest yelled, “That’s my bubba!” when she saw him in his cap and gown. The older girls are approaching their tween years, and they still tell everyone they have the coolest brother ever.
Am I selfish? Nineteen years ago I received love in a tiny package. As time went by, I couldn’t wait to see that love multiply. Today I’m a proud mother of four. Our house bursts with love, and we have plenty to share. The love my children have life spills into our community and shines light where there is darkness. Perhaps one day, it’ll touch your dark corner as well. Today I choose to forgive you for your harsh words and your ignorance. May you be touched by a love like ours one day.
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