Every man dreams of that day when he produces a male heir to eventually assume his father's throne. That moment when he welcomes his young son into the world and holds him in his arms for the first time. I was excited beyond measure when my wife told me she was pregnant. I went to every OB-GYN appointment. I attended every class. I read every book that I could find on becoming a new father. I made ever effort to be prepared. Then the day arrived when my wife's water broke, my little man was on his way! I held his mother's hand as he passed through her birth canal. I smiled as they held him up for us to see. I shed tears when I heard his first cries. One of my greatest dreams had finally come true. I was the father of a healthy beautiful baby boy. But the glory of my dreams would be short lived. A few weeks later when my own father was visiting us he asked me something that would shake the foundations of my spirit. My father was never one to mince words or pull punches so when he spoke his question I knew he truly felt a strong cause for it. He leaned in close to me and said "Son are you sure that he is YOUR son?!"
My first reaction was controlled rage. How could the man who had raised me even have the heart to ask me something like that. And if he was reading my mind he then says, "I know that isn't what you were expecting. But I KNOW what you looked like when you were a baby and I my gut feelings are telling me that you are not your son's father." "You are not your son's father" The statement was so ridiculous that my rage turned to pure amusement. So I laughed off my father's opinion and question. It wasn't until years later that I would begin to question my son's parentage. The more he grew up the more my father's words begin to ring louder in my head. At ten years old it still bothered that my boy shared none of my dominate physical traits nor did he display any of my character traits. Eventually the suspicions that he may not be my son burned on mind on a daily basis. I figured asking my wife flat out would damage our marriage so I didn't because I would basically be accusing her of infidelity without proof, so instead I made the decision to secretly have a DNA test done on our son.
The test took a couple of weeks to return which made the event even more excruciating. When I did finally go to retrieve the results I didn't even open the envelope. I was so fearful of what they would reveal. What they would mean for both my life and my son's life. If I was his father did that mean I had wasted precious time questioning our relation. If I wasn't his father would I be able to tell his mother that I know she was unfaithful and an habitual liar. I guess what prevented me from opening that envelope the most was that I loved my son. In my heart and soul I was his father and I truly believed the test results wouldn't change those feelings. So I sat in my car with my hands trembling as I held the envelope. I kept trying to summon the courage to open it and finally answer the questions that had plagued me for over a decade. As much as I wanted to know...I didn't want to know. But I owed it to myself. More importantly I owed it to the relationship I shared with my son and wife to put that dreaded thought to rest. The thought that my son is mama's baby but poppa's maybe.
Be BETTER TODAY, than you were yesterday
TWIL
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