They weren’t joyful. They were stunned.
Rachel stared at the baby in my arms. “The nurse said…” she stammered. “This isn’t what we expected.”
“It’s a girl,” she said flatly. “We wanted a boy.”
Jason’s jaw tightened. “We assumed, since you’ve had four boys…” He trailed off, disgust flickering. “We needed a son. My family name—”
I couldn’t believe it. “You’re joking,” I said, holding the baby closer. “This is your child. The one you’ve been praying for.”
Jason didn’t respond. He turned and walked out.
Rachel’s voice trembled. “He said he’d leave me if I brought home a girl. His family needs a boy.”
Luke’s voice cut through the silence. “So your solution is to abandon her? A newborn? Your own daughter?”
Rachel looked down, ashamed. “Maybe someone else can take her. A couple who wants a girl.”
That was it. Something in me broke. “Get out,” I said quietly. “Get out until you remember what it means to be a mother.”
The next few days were a blur—diapers, tears, disbelief. My boys came to the hospital, each wanting to hold their cousin. Jack, the oldest, cradled her like treasure. “She’s perfect,” he said. “We should keep her, Mom.”
And that’s when I knew. If Rachel and Jason couldn’t love this child, I would. I already did. I named her Kelly.
Weeks passed. No word from Rachel. Then, one rainy night, I opened the door to find her on my porch. Hollow-eyed. Her wedding ring gone.
“I made the wrong choice,” she said softly. Her eyes fell on Kelly asleep in my arms. “I picked him over her. And it’s been killing me every day since.”
She reached out, fingertips trembling, and brushed Kelly’s cheek. “I thought I needed him. I thought family meant a husband, a name, a perfect picture. But now I know… it’s this. It’s her.”
Tears streamed down her face. “I told Jason I want a divorce. He said I’m ruining my life. Maybe I am. But I won’t let my daughter grow up thinking she wasn’t wanted.”
Her voice cracked.
