A Baby for My Sister by metooiseeyou..,
How do you respond to your sister when, with tears in her eyes, she says, “I want to have your baby”? Before you start to judge, let me explain.
When I was three months old, my father died of a heart attack at a very young age. A very beautiful woman, my mother could not handle the grief of his death and turned to alcohol to ease her pain. Within 6 months, she was a full-blown alcoholic who fell into a relationship with abusive alcoholic who immediately began to physically abuse both my mother and me. At the urging of my maternal grandparents, the child welfare authorities removed me from their home and placed me in the care of my grandparents. Not long after, my mother became pregnant with Robin, my half-sister. After her birth, the authorities kept a close eye on their home situation. Although they prevented any physical abuse, the did not prevent the drunk-driving accident that killed both my mother and her new husband. With him at the wheel, he slammed into a bridge abutment killing them instantly. Robin, who was in the back seat, suffered only minor injuries. She was immediately placed in our grandparents’ home.
Probably because of our traumatic childhood, Robin and I were as close as any siblings could be. We shared all our secrets with one another, and neither were afraid to confess anything to the other. Although we would tease each other as brothers and sisters do, we were each other’s best friend. We shared our hopes, dreams, disappointments, and mistakes. But the one thing that we did not share was our looks. I inherited both of my parents’ good looks, along with my father’s athletic ability. I excelled in sports and was voted most popular boy in high school. My sister, on the other hand, had inherited our mother’s red hair, but she had always been a little overweight. Her facial features were plain, and as she grew older, she always 30-40 pounds overweight. But in my eyes, she was the light of my life. Although painfully shy, her natural inner beauty was all that counted to me. I tried several times to set her up on dates with my friends during high school but was unsuccessful. When her senior prom occurred, I came back from college and was her date. Of course, there were some snickers, but I did not care. All that mattered was Robin’s happiness.
After college I became an accountant for a Fortune 500 company, and quickly moved up the corporate ladder. I dated quite a bit, but never really found anyone with whom I wanted to settle down. Even then, I knew that I was comparing their personalities with Robin’s, whose quiet humor and good nature always trumped any looks that my dates possessed. By the time, I reached 32, I had almost quit dating altogether, finding myself wanting to spend time with Robin more than anyone that I found. We frequently had lunch and dinner together, and even vacationed together.
Robin, on the other hand, became a kindergarten teacher, which fit her personality perfectly. She was often complimented by parents and teachers about how well her pupils performed. Her whole world revolved around those children. She never showed any interest in dating, which I attributed to her shyness and lack of self-esteem. Her sole interest seemed to be her love of children and looked to any opportunity to hold any baby. Her natural shyness disappeared when any infant was around, convincing practically anyone to allow her to hold their baby. I always knew deep down that she would be a wonderful mother.
But as she approached the age of 30, I noticed a subtle sadness that would appear around children. There was a resignation that seem to overcome her, to the point that even the other teachers discussed with me. I began to worry about her and tried to talk with her about it. Even with our past sharing of secrets, she refused to discuss it with me.
So, I did all I could to relieve her sadness: flowers, clothes, weekend trips. But nothing seemed to alleviate her pain. I watched her continue to spiral downward, and I feared that she would suffer the same fate as our mother.
Then, on one cold, January Saturday when she was 30, she called me and in an excited voice asked if she could come over. I readily agreed, and through my door walked Robin, happier than I had ever seen her. Her face was absolutely beaming. Naturally, I was curious about her metamorphosis.
“I have not seen you this happy… ever. What gives?” I asked. I raised my eyebrow in a mock look of suspicion. “A new boyfriend?”
“No!” she began. Then, in a softer tone, “well, maybe in a way.”
“So, you DO have a boyfriend. What’s his name?” I asked.
“Slow down, silly. I don’t have a boyfriend.”
With a look of bewilderment and a slight tilt of my head, I asked, “then…?”
With a look of determination, she began. “You know I have always love children and babies, right?” Teasingly, I interjected that I had never noticed. She continued, “don’t make me slap you. I love children, but…” she paused, “I have never had a single date in my life, except for our date to my senior prom. It’s not like I wouldn’t love to have someone in my life, but I don’t see that happening. I have been depressed for weeks now thinking that I would never be a mother. Now, I see that the solution has always been in front of me.”
Squinting my eyes slightly trying to understand what she was telling me. “So, what’s your solution, girl genius?”
Looking into my eyes, she said in a voice just above a whisper, “you are.”
“I am? How am I the solution?” I asked.
“You can be my sperm donor,” she responded.
Unconsciously, I folded my arms. “ME? You’re my sister. That’s crazy, Robin. I can’t be your donor.” I shook my head.
Instantly, Robin’s happiness began to deflate. Within seconds, tears began to well up in her eyes. I felt my own heart filling with sadness.
“Don’t cry Robin. I can afford to have you artificially inseminated if that is what you want. We can get you an anonymous donor and….” She cut me off.
“I don’t want an anonymous donor, I want YOU. All I have thought of for the last two days is having your baby. You are kind, handsome, smart, funny, do I need to go on? Who knows what I will get with some, pardon the expression, ‘Johnny cum lately’?” Her last remark made us both laugh.
Her smile faded as she continued. “I know that we run a risk since we are related, but you inherited a great set of genes. I only got half. If there is something lurking in the background, it is my father’s genes. Please Steve, I want to have your baby.”
Leaning forward, I hesitantly said, “I’m okay with the concept but are you saying that we need to have sex?”
With a smirk that she had used on me all her life, she shook her head. “No, perverted brother of mine. All I need is your sperm. I have the rest covered.”
“So, when do we start?” I quizzed her.
Tomorrow night was her answer. We discussed where and how, and we made it a date.
The next night, Robin appeared at my door at the appointed time with a small satchel in her hand, and I greeted her in some silk pajamas that I had. I invited her in and took her by hand. Leading her to my darkened bedroom, she gasped at what she saw. I had placed scented candles around the room, rose pedals on the bed, and soft music playing in the background.