It did not matter much. Stephen’s career was so obviously more important than mine. He was bound to make a big splash in the pond of physics, whereas I would be lucky to make the smallest ripple on the surface of language studies. And, as I reminded myself often, I did have the consolation of the children, both of them lively and funny, loving and adorable. Many people who might well have stared cruelly at Stephen, absorbed by the freakishness of disability – the same people who would have called him a cripple – were visibly nonplussed by the sight of a seriously handicapped father with such strikingly beautiful children, each one a miracle of lucid perfection. Stephen gained confidence through his pride in them. He could confound those doubting onlookers by announcing, “These are my children.” The acute joy that we shared in their purity and innocence, their quaint sayings and their sense of wonder, gave us in turn moments of profound tenderness. In those moments, the bond between us strengthened till it embraced not just ourselves but our home and our family, reaching out to include all those people we valued most. The family, our family, had become my raison d’être.
— Travelling to Infinity (Jane Hawking), Loc. 2894–902