Lisa M. McCormack
University of Phoenix/AXIA College
April 18, 2008 is a day she shall surely never forget. Her name is Naomi and she delivered a beautiful baby boy. She names him Landon John. I go into her room so I can meet my godson, looking forward to holding him for the very first time. As I approach the bassinet, I am astounded by what I see. Where her other 3 children all have blonde hair and brown eyes at birth, this child before me has definite features of being a bi-racial child. We were never raised to know there was a difference between races, and my immediate issue was not that my sister had slept with a man who was obviously African American, but the problem was how could she bring a child into this world only to face such condemnation? I had not seen my sister in over a year, so when I found out she was pregnant again, I was happy for her. Now I was only angry that she did not tell me she had not only cheated on her husband, but was so irresponsible in her infidelity. Within 15 seconds I had gone from being a loving sister and elated godmother to an angry, finger-pointing and hateful person. All of which I had become without even asking any questions.
I turned to my sister with anger in my eyes and said to her, “Did you forget to tell me something Naomi?” She answers in a very low voice, “Yes there is.” I immediately begin to condemn her and ask her how she could have been so careless. Never once giving her a chance to speak, I just stand on my high horse. I ask her if she ever thought about the repercussions this poor child will have to experience because of her stupid choices. Before she can even answer me, with tears rolling down her cheeks, I have become our mother. Not once in those few minutes did I ever consider the fact that there could possibly be another explanation.
Sometime around mid July of the previous year, my sister was working as a waitress. Having to grow up so quickly...