I was sixteen when my parents startled me with the news that they were expecting another child. Dad spoke to me as if I were much younger, telling me Id soon have a little brother or sister and that I would need to help out. Life had suited me just fine as an only child, and I was already thinking about university, knowing that with a new baby, money would be needed for nappies and other things, which probably meant no one was going to pay for my studies.
I was impulsive back then, and my question wounded them deeply: why would two old people want another child? Why were they trying to ruin my life at such a pivotal moment?
After the argument, I barricaded myself in my room, overhearing my father comforting my tearful mother. But I felt no pity for her.
Eventually, my brother arrived and I loved him dearly, and I managed to go to university. Still, I never considered it important to apologise to my parents for the uproar and my harsh words.
Years later, grown and married with a daughter of my own, Lucy, she remained an only child for a long time, since my wife wasnt keen on having another. Then the inevitable happened, and I felt uneasy when it was time to tell Lucy she wouldnt grow up alone anymore. Thankfully, she was still relatively youngelevenand her reaction bore no resemblance to mine.
Hooray! So Im going to have a brother or sister? She leapt into my arms, then hurried to hug her mum. Finally!
Her joyful shouting washed over me like a bucket of cold water, drenching me from head to toe. For a moment, I stood in my fathers place and received the reaction Id always hoped for. My own parents had faced nothing but my lack of understanding and selfishness.
Lets tell Grandma and Granddad today, I suggested to my wife and Lucy. Lets visit them and share the good news.
I hoped, even a little, to redeem that old moment. I wanted to apologise for something they might have forgotten long ago…
I’m in the same situation my father once faced—I’m deeply worried about what my child will say
