My name is Amy. My fiance Keith and I have the most perfect baby girl together. She’s 8-months old and she is a mixture of her African American daddy and Caucasian mommy. Her name is Layla.
When I first told my family that I was dating a black man (long before Keith), my dad’s words stung me so badly that I almost didn’t recover. “Dating a black man doesn’t make you a better person, Amy.” “They can’t have you.” These were the words that rang in my ears for so long. It was Layla that broke the tension and melted everyone’s hard exteriors. She has brought so much love into our lives that never existed before.
We live in the south and yes, we do get ridiculous comments like, “Wouldn’t you rather date someone your own race?” and underhanded compliments like, “You’re so brave.” But compared to where we’ve been and the precious gift we have now, those things pale in comparison. An acquaintance recently said, “Amy, nothing makes you look happier or more in your element than being a mom.” I completely agree. You can’t argue with destiny.