Demanding a ‘Pure’ Child: How I Stood Up to My Husband’s Shocking Request

I never desired…” I fell to my knees next to him as tears welled up in my own eyes. “How do you think Amelia would feel, knowing her father was disappointed in her just because of how she looks?” With a mask of agony on his face, Peter glanced up at me. “I truly apologize. I’ve been a complete moron. I promise that I adore Amelia. I was simply, you know, unclear. Fearful? Ignorant? Both?”I inhaled deeply. “Amelia is staying with my mother. She is secure. Peter’s face showed a visible wave of relief. Slumping into me, he sobbed even more. “Oh, I’m so grateful to God. I believed that I had lost her for good.” We talked and cried together for a long while as we sat there on the floor. Peter opened up about his worries about losing touch with his roots, disappointing his family, and not being able to connect with Amelia. “But in the end, none of that matters,” he stated. “She is our offspring. Nora, I adore her so much. It amazes me that I allowed my foolish preconceptions to stand in the way of that. I wiped my eyes and nodded. “Peter, we must perform better. For the benefit of Amelia. She deserves to have parents who will always love and accept her.”“You’re correct,” declared Peter. Can we go grab her now? Would you please? I had to hold her and see her.” We were both immersed in our thoughts as we silently drove to my mom’s place. Peter virtually raced to the door when we arrived. Answering, my mother held Amelia. Peter broke down in tears once more the instant he saw her. He embraced her and held her tight. He muttered, “I’m so sorry, baby girl.” “Daddy adores you a lot. precisely as you are.” My mother gave me a perplexed look. “I’ll explain later,” I said in a mouthful, and she nodded while holding my hand. Peter and I had a lot of lengthy, difficult talks over the course of the following few weeks. We discussed our identities, the true meaning of family, and the types of parents we wished to become.One night, Peter said, “I never realized how deep my biases ran.” “I’m ashamed of how I acted.” I grasped his hand. “The important thing is that you’re willing to change.” After learning about the rich history and culture that Amelia would receive from both sides of her family, Peter began investigating my family’s ancestry. He even enrolled in language studies so that as Amelia grew older, he could teach her the original tongue of my family as well as Norwegian.Not everything was simple. Even now, there were still times when I would get a flash of rage recalling what Peter had said, or when his fears would come to the surface. But collectively, we managed to overcome it. When I returned home one day, Peter and Amelia were lying on the floor with books all around them. “What’s all this?” I enquired. Peter smiled as he looked up. “We’re traveling the globe! Amelia should be aware of all the diverse cultures in the world, not just our own.” As I watched them interact, a sensation of warmth filled my chest. I had always dreamed Peter would be a father like this.Peter turned to face me one night while we were standing over Amelia’s cot, watching her sleep. With a quiet “thank you,” he spoke. I questioned, “For what?” “For persevering with me. for showing me what’s important in life.” He grinned at our daughter from below. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?” I rested my head on his shoulder and experienced a wave of calm. Yes, I replied. “She really is.”It was clear to me that we still had a long way to go as I observed my spouse softly petting our daughter’s cheek. However, I felt hope for the first time in months. It was going to be all right. Collectively, the three of us.What about Peter’s relatives? But that’s a tale for another day. But let’s just say that they fell in love with Amelia just as fast as we did when they eventually got to meet her. Because love ultimately just sees the heart and cannot distinguish between colors. How would you have responded in that situation?