A question that Laura Spink asked her parents as a kid comes up again when her own child begins to ask similar questions.

Laura Spink is a vocalist/percussionist in the Toronto-based duo, The Young Novelists. She has toured Canada, the United States, and Europe, and the band has won a Canadian Folk Music Award for New/Emerging Artist of the Year. Besides working full-time in music, Laura graduated with a Geochemistry degree from the University of Waterloo and works part-time at the Ontario Ministry of the Environment, Conservation and Parks. She is also the proud mom of an amazing 7-year old son.

This story originally aired on February 15, 2019 in an episode titled “Heredity: Stories about where we come from”.

Story Transcript

I’m eight years old in the school yard and I’m playing on the jungle gym and I notice these two girls a little ways away.  I don’t know them but they're whispering and one of them is pointing at me.  I’m pretty sure that they're talking about me. 

Then they both come over and the taller one says, “What happened to your face?” 

And the other one says, “Yeah.  Looks like you got hit in the nose with a frying pan.” 

In the days and months after I was born, doctors noticed that there were several things that were different about me.  I had a cleft palate, which meant that there was a hole connecting the roof of my mouth to my nose.  I had really bad vision and hearing so I needed thick glasses and hearing aids.  I had a small jaw with crooked teeth so eventually I needed braces.  And I had a lisp.  And I didn’t really have a bridge in my nose so it was flat and upturned. 

Through the years, I had several surgeries that corrected the cleft palate and built up my nose but no one ever really had an answer for why.  And my issues weren’t life threatening.  They were just things.  At first, it wasn’t really a big deal but, as I got older, what happened in the schoolyard started happening more and more.  It got to the point that every time I noticed someone whispering or pointing, I just knew that they were talking about me. 

A few weeks later, I was in my bedroom.  My parents had just finished reading me a story.  And I built up the courage to ask them, “Why do I look so different from you guys?”  “Why am I so ugly?” 

I could tell that they were shocked.  My mom said, “Sweetie, you are beautiful just the way you are and this is the way you were born and we love you.” 

And my dad chimes in with all these talents that I had.  He was like, “You're a great soccer player and figure skater and singer.” 

As we were, talking I feel this comfort because I know that they love me.  But, at the same time, they're my parents.  Of course they feel this way.  I just knew that the rest of the world did not feel the same way. 

As I got older, I wanted to be a singer or an actor but I did not see any singers or actors that looked like me.  They were all beautiful with these conventional looks and I was ugly. 

And it wasn’t like I didn’t have any friends because I always had a few really great ones, but I just had this feeling with every interaction I had with kids and with teachers and with parents that they're thinking, “You're ugly, Laura.  You're ugly.” 

And I didn’t feel cool.  I didn’t feel like I was interesting.  I didn’t feel like I was worthy of love. 

When I graduated high school I went to university.  Instead of studying music or drama,  like I wanted to, I went into science because that was also something that I was pretty good at.  But singing and acting was just not something that I imagined I could do because I was ugly. 

But my first year of university was actually kind of amazing.  It was a really big school in a big city and people were different here.  I made some really great friends and eventually started dating.  And I started realizing that, to some people other than my family, I was beautiful. 

Then I met Graydon.  He had blonde, curly hair and Buddy Holly glasses and the kindest eyes.  He was one of those people who thought I was beautiful.  He was doing a degree in computer science and I spent a lot of my time in the chemistry building and there was an underground tunnel that connected the two.  That’s where we had our first kiss. 

Graydon was also a musician and he taught me how to play guitar, he encouraged me to get up on stage and sing and, eventually, we started playing open mics together. 

I started to think maybe this music thing was something that I could do so, when we graduated university, we were still together and, eventually, we got married.  We knew we wanted to have a family so when I got pregnant we were thrilled. 

Twelve weeks into my pregnancy, I’m in the car and I’m listening to the CBC.  There's an interview with this woman who’s talking about all of these medical challenges that she has had in her life.  She says that she has a cleft palate, she has really bad vision and hearing, and she has a small nose.  She says that she has this genetic condition called Stickler Syndrome. 

I had never heard of this before but all of a sudden it hits me.  I have that.  So I did a bunch of research and got an appointment at Mount Sinai with a genetics counselor.  They did some testing and the results came back and they said, “Yes, it looks like you have this syndrome.” 

I was so excited because, finally, there's this reason for why I have all these things, and that was kind of amazing to me.  But then they tell me that it’s an autosomal dominant condition and there's a fifty-fifty chance of me passing it onto my baby.  I am floored and I feel this dark and heavy feeling of guilt flooding my entire body.  I don't know what to do. 

I know that I will love this baby no matter what but I don’t want them to go through what I went through or feel limited the way that I felt limited.  So when I was in the hospital room after just having given birth to this beautiful baby boy we named Simon, my dad stuck his baby finger into Simon’s mouth and felt his palate.  He looked at me and he said, “He's fine,” and I was so relieved. 

Seven years later, we’re in Simon’s room.  Graydon and I are cuddled up.  We had just finished reading him a story.  And Simon seemed kind of bummed out. 

Graydon asked him what was wrong, how his day was, and Simon told us that a kid at school wasn’t very nice to him and that he didn’t feel like he was a very good person. 

And I say, “Sweetie, you are a good person.  We’re so proud of you and we love you so much.”

And he said, “Well, I’m not proud of myself and I don't love myself.” 

I just felt floored.  And I said “Sweetie, you are kind and caring and empathetic, and you're great at breakdancing and soccer and singing.”  But I could tell that he was totally not convinced. 

Then I said to him, “i know that feeling.  I know what it feels like to not love yourself and it really sucks.”

All of my life I have struggled with my ability to truly love myself and I don't want Simon to feel that way.  But I want him to know at least that if he does, that he's not alone.  Thank you.