Your Baby

“Michael! Come on- Let’s go on the slide,” I stated one gorgeous summer afternoon. I grabbed his hand and started to lead him over to the playground. On our way over, an older lady sitting on a park bench walked toward us. “Aw, your baby is so cute!” she exclaimed. I sighed, glancing at Michael and said, “Thanks, but he is not my baby; he is my little brother.” I continued to lead him to the slide as angry thoughts arose in my head. Why did everyone assume I was a teenage mother?!

I often babysat my younger siblings for my mom. My little brother, Michael, was almost two. It never failed that whenever I took Michael out to the park or McDonalds, someone always assumed he was my child. I was sixteen years old, and I did not appreciate that I couldn’t take my younger brother out without being portrayed as his mom. I understood that more and more teenagers were becoming pregnant but I was not one of them. It made me angry to be bombarded by people’s assumptions. They didn’t even ask if he was my child—they automatically assumed.

One specific time, I had Michael and my younger sisters with me at the food court in the PX on post. My sisters were four and ten. We were eating a snack when a group of ladies approached us. My cheerful mood immediately fell as I saw them coming. I rolled my eyes. Here it comes. And sure enough, one of the ladies screeched out, “Oh! Your baby is the most adorable thing! How old is he? And look at those beautiful eyes!” Once the first lady started talking, the rest joined in. Finally, the scrutiny ended and I was allowed to talk. “He’s sixteen months,” I muttered and then sarcastically added, “And these are my daughters. Rachel is ten and Rebekah is four.” Looks of confusion crossed over the ladies’ faces. I stood up with Michael in my arms and said, "Let’s go guys. I want to tell mom that everyone thinks her children are adorable.”

We walked out of the PX to the car and once again I was left contemplating the world’s assumptions. For a while I no longer wanted to take any of my siblings out with me. I was just trying to be the big sister and spend time with my family, but I was tired of being labeled as a mom. If it had happened only once in a while then I wouldn’t have been so irked when people would approach. They didn’t even ask before they would state the words “Your baby.” Those words haunted me for a long time. He is not my baby. I was not a mother. I did not want to be a mother. I wanted to be a big sister.