I Went to the Hospital to Bring Home My Wife and Newborn Twins — But She Left the Babies and a Note

“I hope so,” Sara said quietly. “Suzie’s stronger than she thinks. But Ben… keep looking for her.”

Weeks turned into months.

One afternoon, while Callie and Jessica napped, my phone buzzed. It was a text from an unlisted number. When I opened it, my breath caught.

It was a photo of Suzie, holding the twins at the hospital, her face pale but serene. Beneath it was a message:

“I wish I was the type of mother they deserve. I hope you forgive me.”

I called the number immediately, but it didn’t go through.

I texted back, but my messages didn’t go through either. It was like shouting into a void. But the photo reignited my determination.

Suzie was out there. She was alive and at least a part of her still longed for us, even though she was clearly still in a bad place. I’d never give up on her.

A year passed with no leads or clues to Suzie’s whereabouts. The twins’ first birthday was bittersweet. I’d poured everything into raising them, but the ache for Suzie never left.

That evening, as the girls played in the living room, there was a knock at the door. I thought I was dreaming at first. Suzie stood there, clutching a small gift bag, her eyes brimming with tears.

She looked healthier, her cheeks were fuller, and her posture was more confident. But the sadness was still there, hovering behind her smile. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

I didn’t think. I pulled her into my arms, holding her as tightly as I dared. She sobbed into my shoulder, and for the first time in a year, I felt whole.

Over the following weeks, Suzie told me how the postpartum depression, my mom’s cruel words, and her feelings of inadequacy had overwhelmed her. She’d left to protect the twins and to escape the spiral of self-loathing and despair. Therapy had helped her rebuild, one painstaking step at a time.Continue reading…