the accident. the anecdote.

I was sitting with my friends waiting for my teacher to begin our lesson; we were in my grade six classroom. Only the female students from our classes were present – we had been separated from our male counterparts. This was the first day of human sexuality.

Our lesson started like all HS classes had in the past: asking for all the students to be mature, asking them to understand the importance of the lessons, and asking if they had any questions to write them down. This year was different from the previous one. We were going to learn about the actual way in which children were born.

As sixth-grade students, we already had some form of knowledge about this subject – gained from the older students – but its reliability was questionable. We kept our attention on our teacher as she began to tell us facts and other information. Some things we knew, most we didn’t.

I paid attention to the class, as I did all my classes, when a particular detail caught my attention. My teacher was talking about age differences between siblings. The piece I focussed on was about larger age differences and how in many cases the younger is an accident. This really stuck with me because my brother and I have about a seven-year difference between us.

The rest of the class continued with the same level of discomfort that all human sexuality classes did, and at the end I decided to approach my teacher regarding the age difference detail in her lesson.

“Ms. J, my brother is seven years older than me. Do you think I was unplanned?” I asked, getting straight to the point. I was hoping she would say that I wasn’t because knowing you are an accident does have an effect on a child’s self-esteem.

“Ask,” she replied simply. “I can’t tell you anything about your family.”

“I guess you’re right.” I walked away from the desk to get my materials for the next class. In my mind, I was already formulating my course of action; however, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to follow through with it. I was about to dive into the waters of the unknown, not knowing what I wished to gain upon emerging.

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As always, I came home earlier than my mother. I was particularly antsy about asking her the question about my entire life. My hands were clammy and sweaty, giving away my true feelings behind the confrontation I was to partake in. Had it – my life – been a mistake? I was going to find out, whether I wanted to or not.

She arrived home at 4:30pm, as usual. I waited for her to get comfortable before I asked, “Mom, was I an accident?”

“Yes,” she responded in between her laughs at my sudden question.

My mom told me about how she was not expecting to have another child after my brother; her and my dad were delighted to have me, nonetheless. In fact, my dad was even more excited to know that he would be having a daughter. For them, not having their only daughter would mean their family would not be complete. It was with that I let out the breath I didn’t know I held since the class and smiled at my mom.

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The next day, I was sitting with my friends waiting for an opportunity to share my newfound knowledge with them. They had been confused at the light-hearted tone in which I told them I was unplanned, but I shook them off with a grin. I didn’t consider being an accident something bad, rather as a blessing that my parents never knew they wanted.

I still tell everyone this as a “fun fact” about me. With the same tone, laugh, and smile.

 

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