I opened a box of forgotten photos while cleaning the attic and found pictures of me holding a tiny newborn, my eyes brimming with love. But I’d never been pregnant, let alone given birth. I decided to investigate, unaware I must face a truth that would shatter me to the core.
A few weeks ago, I was cleaning the attic when I pulled an old box from the shelf. It was labeled “Photos – Keep” in my handwriting, though I had no memory of marking it. Dust motes danced in the bright light as I nervously opened the box.
An old box on the floor | Source: Midjourney
Inside, memories spilled out in glossy 4×6 prints: my college graduation with Mom and Dad beaming beside me, our wedding day with Daniel spinning me around the dance floor, and countless summer barbecues at the lake house.
Then, everything STOPPED.
There I was, in a hospital bed, cradling a newborn baby. My hair was plastered to my forehead with sweat, dark circles under my eyes, but my expression… I was gazing at that tiny bundle with such raw, pure love that it took my breath away.
A person holding a newborn baby | Source: Unsplash
More photos followed — me holding the baby against my chest, touching its impossibly small fingers, crying as I looked into its face. In another, I was feeding the baby, my finger trapped in its tiny fist.
But that was impossible. I’d never had a baby. Never been pregnant. NEVER. Then how was this possible?
I sank to the attic floor, surrounded by the scattered photos. My hands shook as I examined each one closely, searching for signs of manipulation or editing.
But they were real… the paper was aged and the corners slightly worn.
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
In one picture, a distinctive mustard-yellow chair sat in the corner of the hospital room, and the curtains had an odd geometric pattern I recognized.
It was St. Mary’s Hospital, the same hospital where we’d visited my aunt after her hip surgery last year.
Daniel was at work, and I was grateful for the solitude as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing. These photos showed a moment that should have been the most significant part of my life.
But I remembered nothing. Not a single second.
A mustard-yellow chair in a room | Source: Midjourney
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking as I gathered the photos and grabbed my car keys as soon as Daniel left for work the following morning.
I didn’t ask him anything as I wanted to find out about this mysterious baby on my own.
The hospital parking lot was nearly empty at 11 a.m. on that pleasant Tuesday. I sat in my car for five minutes, clutching the photos to my chest and trying to gather the courage to go inside.
A young mother walked past pushing a stroller, and my chest tightened with an emotion I couldn’t name.
A woman pushing a baby stroller | Source: Pexels
The reception area smelled of antiseptic and floor cleaner. A young woman with bright blue scrubs and a butterfly-shaped name tag looked up as I approached.
“Hi,” I said. “I need to access some old records of mine.”
“Look at this,” I then added, showing her the pictures. “Whose baby is this? Why am I holding it? I don’t remember anything. What’s happening?”
Without answering, she typed something on her phone and then frowned at her screen. Her fingers paused over the keypad.
“One moment, please!” she said, disappearing into a back office, whispering urgently to someone.
A hospital staff in scrubs | Source: Pexels
An older nurse emerged, her hair pulled back in a neat bun, her name tag reading “Nancy, Head Nurse.” Her eyes held a mix of concern and recognition that made my stomach twist.
“Miss, we do have records for you here, but we’ll need to contact your husband before we can discuss them.”
My stomach dropped. “What? Why?”
“Hospital policy, in cases like this. Please, let me call him now.”
A hospital staff holding documents | Source: Pexels
“No, these are my medical records. I have a right to know—”
But Nancy was already picking up the phone, her eyes never leaving my face. She dialed, and I heard the ring through the receiver.
“Sir? This is Nancy from St. Mary’s Hospital. Yes… your wife Angela is here requesting access to some medical records. Yes… I see… Could you come down right away? Yes, it’s about that… Thank you.”
A nurse holding a smartphone | Source: Pexels
My hands clenched into fists. “You know my husband? You have his number?”
“He’ll be here in 20 minutes. Would you like some water while you wait?”
“No. I want answers.”
I sank into a plastic chair, the photos clutched to my chest.
Every minute that ticked by on the waiting room clock felt like an eternity. When Daniel finally arrived, still in his work clothes, his face was ashen. He’d clearly driven here at full speed.
“Angela??”
A startled man in a hospital | Source: Midjourney
“What’s going on, Dan? Why do they have your number? Why won’t they talk to me without you?”
He turned to Nancy. “Is Dr. Peters available?”
The doctor’s office was small, with certificates covering one wall and a small window overlooking the parking lot. Dr. Peters was a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and worry lines around her mouth. She folded her hands on her desk as we sat down.
“Tell her,” Dr. Peters said. “Your wife deserves to know everything.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “Know what? What’s going on?”
A doctor in her office | Source: Pexels
Daniel leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Six years ago, my sister Fiona came to us with a request. Do you remember how long she and Jack had been trying to have a baby?”
“Your sister? What does she have to do with this?”
“The fertility treatments weren’t working. The IVF failed three times,” he swallowed hard. “She asked if you would consider being her surrogate. And you said… yes.”
The world tilted sideways. “No. That’s not… I would remember that. A pregnancy? Being a surrogate? No, I wouldn’t—”
A shocked woman looking up | Source: Midjourney
“You were so determined to help her, Angel. You said it was the greatest gift you could give your sister-in-law. The pregnancy went perfectly. You were glowing and so happy to be helping them. But when the baby was was born—”
Dr. Peters spoke up. “You experienced a severe psychological break after delivery, Angela. The maternal hormones and bonding process were stronger than anyone anticipated. You refused to let go of the baby. When they tried to take him to Fiona, you became hysterical.”
I pressed my hands against my temples. “Stop. Please stop.”
Grayscale shot of a newborn baby | Source: Unsplash
“Your mind protected itself,” Dr. Peters explained gently. “It’s called dissociative amnesia. Your psyche built a wall around the memories to shield you from the trauma of the separation. In cases of severe emotional distress, the mind can—”
“You’re telling me I forgot an entire pregnancy? A whole baby? That’s not possible! I would know. My body would know. My heart would know.”
“Angel,” Daniel reached for my hand. But I jerked away so violently my chair scraped against the floor.
Portrait of a distressed man | Source: Midjourney
“Don’t touch me! You knew? All this time, you knew? Every time we talked about maybe having kids someday, every time we walked past a baby store… you knew I had carried a child? Given birth? And given him away like he was some freaking toy?”
“Where is he?” I demanded, my throat raw and eyes red-rimmed from crying.
“Fiona moved to the countryside shortly after. The doctors thought the distance would help you recover.”
A teary-eyed woman | Source: Unsplash
“So everyone just decided?” I laughed. “Everyone just chose to let me forget my own—” I couldn’t say the word. Couldn’t acknowledge what I’d lost. “Six years? Six birthdays, first steps, first words?”
“We thought we were protecting you.”
“By lying? By watching me live in ignorance? Did you all get together and plan this? Have meetings about how to keep me in the dark?”
“By letting you heal,” Dr. Peters interjected softly. “The mind can only handle so much pain, Angela. Your psyche chose this path for a reason.”
A frustrated woman | Source: Pexels
I dashed out of the hospital as fast as my legs could carry me. Daniel caught up, ushering me into the car. I was a total mess. My fragile heart was shattered beyond repair.
That night, I slept in our guest room, surrounded by the photos.
I studied each one until my eyes burned, trying to force my mind to remember. The way I touched his tiny face. The tears on my cheeks. The love in my eyes.
I pressed my hand against my stomach, trying to imagine him there, growing, moving, being part of me. But nothing came back. Nothing.
A sad woman sitting on the bed | Source: Pexels
“Can we see him?” I asked Daniel the next day.
“We should probably ask Fiona first,” he said, his voice uncertain. “But if you’re sure, I think she’ll be okay with it.”
It took a week to convince Fiona to let us visit. Seven days of negotiations through Daniel, because I couldn’t bear to speak to her directly. Not yet.
How do you talk to someone who has your child? Who took your child?
After countless phone calls and messages, Fiona finally agreed.
A man talking on the phone | Source: Pexels
The drive to the countryside was endless. I watched the landscape change through the window, each mile bringing me closer to a truth I wasn’t sure I could face.
Fields gave way to forests, forests to suburbs. All the while, my mind spun with questions.
Would he look like me? Would some part of him recognize me? Would I feel anything at all? Would he come running to me?
Aerial view of a car on the road | Source: Unsplash
Fiona’s house was everything I’d imagined during those sleepless nights. Perfect lawn, flowers in window boxes, a red bicycle leaning against the porch, and a tire swing. Wind chimes tinkled softly and the delicious smell of something cooking wafted in the air.
My legs shook so badly I could barely walk to the door.
Fiona stood there, just as I remembered her from the family pictures. But her eyes were cautious, teary, and guarded, like a watchful mother’s.
“Angela,” she said softly. “Come in.”
A teary-eyed woman looking at someone | Source: Pexels
My gaze swept across the room, searching for the little one who held the key to my forgotten past.
And there he was, peeking around the corner. Dark curls like mine and those familiar eyes. My heart squeezed so tight I couldn’t breathe.
My son! My baby! I longed to scream, to run to him, to hold him tight. But I stood rooted to the spot, numb with heartache.
“Tommy,” Fiona called, “come meet your Aunt Angela.”
A little boy wearing a hat | Source: Unsplash
He approached shyly, a toy dinosaur clutched in one hand. “Hello, Aunt Angela.”
“Hello, Tommy!” I said, his name feeling like a prayer on my tongue.
He studied me with those big, brown eyes, head tilted slightly. “Want to see my room? I have a bunk bed! And a T-Rex that roars when you push its belly.”
“I’d love that, sweetie.”
A woman with her eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney
As he led me upstairs, chattering about his dinosaur collection and his best friend Jake and how he could ride his bike without training wheels now, I felt it.
Not a memory exactly, but an echo. A ghost of what we might have been. Of all the moments I should have had.
Later that night, in our hotel room, I took out the photos one last time. The woman in them wasn’t a stranger anymore. I understood her joy, her pain, and her sacrifice even if I couldn’t remember feeling them myself.
A woman holding a newborn baby | Source: Unsplash
I touched the image of the baby, my finger tracing his tiny photostatic features.
“You okay?” Daniel asked from the doorway.
“No. But I think I will be.”
I slipped the photos back into an envelope. Some memories might stay lost and buried under years of protective fog. But now I had something more precious than memories: I had truth. And somehow, in that truth, I found the peace I didn’t know I’d been missing.
It would take time to fully come to terms with my truth, but this was a step in the right direction.
A woman holding an envelope | Source: Pexels
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
My Husband Moved Back in with His Mom Because My Cough ‘Was Annoying’ While I Was Sick with Our Baby – So I Taught Him a Lesson
When I got sick, I finally saw a side to my husband that I didn’t like. He abandoned me and our newborn baby because he didn’t want to step up and be a good father and husband, so I played along. But I came out on top!
I’m 30, married to a man named Drew who’s 33, and we have a six-month-old baby girl named Sadie. She’s the light of my life—a smile like sunshine, chubby cheeks, and the sweetest little giggle. But apparently, all of that was just a minor inconvenience to my husband when I got sick.
A sickly woman | Source: Midjourney
Let me tell you what happened. Strap in, because it still feels like a fever dream, and not just because I had a fever when it all started. This all occurred about a month ago. I’d caught some brutal virus. Not COVID-19, not RSV, but something gnarly.
I mean, this thing came with body aches, chills, and a cough that made my ribs feel like they were being punched from the inside! The worst part? Sadie had just gotten over a cold herself, so I was already drained.
A cute baby | Source: Midjourney
At this point, I was sleep-deprived, sick, and trying to take care of a baby who was still clingy from her own recovery. Strangely, Drew had been acting weird for weeks, even before I got sick. He was distant.
Always on his phone, chuckling at things he wouldn’t share. When I’d ask what was so funny, he’d just shrug and say, “It’s work stuff.” His fuse was short, too. He snapped over stupid things—the dishes in the sink and my forgetting to defrost the chicken.
An upset man | Source: Midjourney
My husband also kept commenting on how tired I looked. “You always seem exhausted,” he said one night while I rocked Sadie in my arms and tried to suppress a cough.
“Well, yeah, duh. I’m raising a human,” I replied with a tinge of annoyance.
I thought maybe, just maybe, this illness would snap him out of it. I hoped he’d see me struggling and finally step up. Pick up the slack. Be the man I married.
Boy, was I wrong!
A sickly woman struggling with a baby | Source: Midjourney
The night my fever hit 102.4, I could barely sit up! My hair was stuck to my forehead, my skin burned, and my whole body ached like I’d been hit by a truck! I looked at him and, with all the strength I could muster, I whispered, “Can you please take Sadie? I just need to lie down for 20 minutes.”
He didn’t even blink. “I can’t. Your cough is keeping me up. I NEED SLEEP. I think I’m gonna stay at my mom’s for a few nights.”
I actually laughed—not because it was funny, but because it was so absurd I thought he had to be joking!
He wasn’t.
A sickly woman laughing while holding her baby | Source: Midjourney
He actually got up, packed a duffel bag, kissed Sadie on the head—not me—and walked out. All the while, I kept asking him, “Are you serious right now? You’re really leaving?” And he just nodded his head and said nothing.
He didn’t even bother asking how Sadie would be taken care of while I could barely stand! After he left, I sat on the couch holding her while she cried from being overtired and hungry. I stared at the door. My phone buzzed a few minutes later after I texted him.
A woman holding a baby and texting | Source: Midjourney
“You’re seriously leaving me here sick and alone with the baby?” I had texted, still in disbelief.
“You’re the mom. You know how to handle this stuff better than me. I’d just get in the way. Plus, I’m exhausted and your cough is unbearable.”
I read that text five times and stared at it in shock! My hands were shaking, whether from the fever or the rage, I’ll never know! I couldn’t believe that this man, who was supposed to be my life partner, thought my cough was too much of a hindrance than staying and helping with OUR child while I was clearly sick!?
FINE!
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
I somehow made it through the weekend. I barely ate. I cried in the shower when Sadie finally napped. I kept her alive on nothing but Tylenol, willpower, and instinct. And during that time, Drew didn’t check in, not once!
I couldn’t rely on family because they were hours away, and although my friends popped in and called now and then, they were too busy, out of town, or had some other reason. The whole time I was burning up in bed, one idea kept playing in my mind: I need to show this man what it feels like to be completely abandoned.
So I did.
A serious and determined woman | Source: Midjourney
I started devising my plan. I figured if he thought being sick and then abandoned wasn’t a big deal, I was going to give him an idea of what it felt like. By the time I felt somewhat human again, with no fever, still coughing but functional, I knew exactly what I was going to do.
So a week later, I texted him.
“Hey babe. I’m feeling much better now. You can come home.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Thank God! I’ve barely slept here. Mom’s dog snores and she keeps asking me to help with yard work.”
Yard work. Poor baby. Imagine that.
A happy man texting | Source: Midjourney
Ahead of his return, I cleaned the kitchen from top to bottom, prepped Sadie’s bottles and food, and even made Drew’s favorite dinner, spaghetti carbonara with garlic bread from scratch. I showered, put on makeup for the first time in two weeks, and wore jeans that didn’t scream “I’ve been up every two hours with a baby.”
When he walked in, he looked around like everything was back to normal. He was smiling, looking relaxed, ate like a king, burped, and then collapsed onto the couch with his phone! He barely said a word to me about the week I had endured!
A happy man using his phone | Source: Midjourney
A few minutes into his relaxation time, I finally struck!
“Hey,” I said sweetly, “Can you hold Sadie for a sec? I need to grab something upstairs.”
“Sure,” he muttered after sighing and rolling his eyes. He kept scrolling TikTok with one hand and held her with the other.
I came down five minutes later with my small suitcase and my car keys. Sadie was smiling and babbling in his lap.
Noticing the movement, he blinked. “What’s that?”
“I booked a weekend spa retreat,” I said, calm as can be. “Massage, facial, room service. I just need some rest.”
He sat up, confused. “Wait, you’re going now?!”
A shocked man holding a baby | Source: Midjourney
“Yep. Just two nights. I left instructions. Bottles are labeled and her toys are there. Diapers and wipes are stocked. Emergency numbers are on the fridge. I got lots of groceries. Everything’s good. Unlike you, I actually planned ahead for you. Besides, you’re the dad. You know how to handle this stuff.”
“Claire, I don’t know what to—” he started.
I raised a hand. “No, no. Your words last week, remember? ‘You’re the mom. You know how to handle this stuff better than me.’ Now it’s your turn.”
A woman leaving with luggage | Source: Midjourney
He seemed gobsmacked for a few seconds before he said, “Wait—Claire, c’mon. You can’t just—”
“I can. I am. You abandoned me when I needed you most. So now you’ll see what it’s like to carry everything alone. Don’t call unless it’s a real emergency. And no pawning her off on your mom. You’re the dad. Figure it out.”
He just stared at me with his eyes wide. I don’t think he was processing what was happening.
A shocked man | Source: Midjourney
“You wanted sleep? Good luck getting any. Bye-bye, dear. I’ll be back Sunday night!”
And then I walked out. I didn’t slam the door. I didn’t cry in the car. I drove 45 minutes to a beautiful, tranquil, and quiet little inn with a spa and free chocolate chip cookies in the lobby.
That day, I vowed not to answer any calls or texts. I figured if there was a real issue, Drew could get in touch with his mother or take Sadie to the hospital. I even ignored the first wave of panicked voicemails and FaceTime attempts.
A woman relaxing at a spa | Source: Midjourney
Instead, I had a 90-minute massage, took naps, read by the fireplace, got a pedicure, and watched trashy reality shows in a fluffy robe. Bliss!
Saturday? Slept in until 9 a.m., got a facial, and ate a warm croissant while reading a book by the fire.
He did call twice. Left two voicemails. One was mild panic. The other was an attempt to guilt-trip me.
“Claire, Sadie won’t nap. I don’t know how you do this. She spit up on me twice. Please call back.”
I didn’t.
A woman using her phone | Source: Midjourney
But I did FaceTime that evening because, despite everything, I missed my daughter, and unlike him, I still really loved him.
When the screen lit up, Drew looked like he’d aged 10 years. Sadie was in his arms, hair a mess, chewing on his hoodie string. Her diaper looked… full.
“Hey, Sadie-bug,” I said, my voice softening. “Mommy misses you.”
She smiled. Reached for the screen. Drew looked like he wanted to melt.
“Claire,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t realize how hard this is!”
No kidding!
I nodded. “I know.”
A woman on her phone | Source: Midjourney
Sunday evening, I came home to a war zone! Toys everywhere. Dirty bottles in the sink. Drew was still in the same shirt from the day before, his eyes sunken, hair sticking up like a cartoon scientist!
Sadie squealed and giggled when she saw me! I scooped her up and kissed her all over! She smelled like baby wipes and panic, but was fine, maybe a little clingy.
A happy woman carrying her child | Source: Midjourney
Drew just looked at me like he was seeing a goddess with infinite powers—exhausted and ashamed.
“I get it now,” he whispered. “I really do.”
“Do you?” I asked.
He nodded. “I messed up.”
I pulled out a folded paper from my purse and placed it on the table. Don’t get excited, it wasn’t divorce papers, at least, not yet. He looked down like a deer caught in headlights, probably thinking the papers were the end of our marriage.
A shocked man looking at a list | Source: Midjourney
But it was a list. A schedule. Morning duties, nighttime feedings, grocery runs, laundry, baths. His name was next to half of them.
“You don’t get to tap out anymore,” I told him. “I need a partner. Not a third child.”
He nodded, slowly. “Okay. I’m in.”
To his credit, he has been trying. He wakes up when Sadie cries at night. He makes her bottles and finally managed to change her diaper without gagging! He even learned to swaddle her without watching a tutorial!
A happy man holding his swaddled child | Source: Midjourney
But I’m not stupid. I’m not rushing to forgive him. I’m still watching. Still deciding.
But at least now, he knows: love doesn’t mean allowing someone to walk all over you, and I’m not the type of woman you leave behind when things get tough.
I’m the woman who makes sure you never, ever forget it.
A determined woman | Source: Midjourney
In the following story, a woman was thrilled when her boyfriend proposed but, his mother quickly shut down any idea of them actually getting married. To cut a long story short, the jilted woman didn’t take the slight lying down and got revenge in the best way possible!
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