When I arrived at the hospital to take Suzie and our newborn twins home, I was met with a devastating blow. Suzie was gone, leaving only a cryptic note. As I struggled to care for the babies and discover why she had left, I uncovered secrets that shook the foundations of our family.
As I drove to the hospital, the colorful balloons bobbing in the passenger seat seemed to reflect my excitement. Today was the day! I would finally bring home our little girls, Callie and Jessica.
I couldn’t wait to see Suzie’s face light up as she discovered the room I had decorated, the dinner I prepared and the framed photos I placed on the mantelpiece. She deserved all the happiness in the world after months of dealing with back pain, morning sickness and my mother’s constant criticism.
Everything seemed perfect… Or so I thought.
When I walked into Suzie’s hospital room, my daughters were there, sleeping peacefully in their cribs. But Suzie wasn’t there. I thought maybe she had gone out for some fresh air, but then I saw the note. I took it in trembling hands and unfolded it.
“Goodbye. Take care of them. Ask your mother WHY she did this to me.”
I read those words over and over, unable to believe what they said. Suzie was gone? What did that mean? What did my mother have to do with any of this?
A nurse entered the room with a folder in her hand and a polite smile. “Everything is ready to discharge the girls.”
“What about my wife?”, I asked, holding the note tightly.
The nurse hesitated. “Ah…she left this morning. She said you knew.”
I left the hospital in a daze, carrying the baby chairs and with that note burning in my hands. What had happened? Suzie had seemed so happy the last time I saw her…or was I blind?
When I got home, my mother was on the porch, holding a platter of potato gratin and smiling broadly.
“Ah, my granddaughters are here, can I see the girls?”
I stepped back, hugging the babies to my chest. “Not yet, Mom. First, tell me: what did you do to Suzie?”
Her smile faded immediately, replaced by a confused expression. I held the note out to her and said, “Read this.”
She read, her face paling with each word. “Ben…I don’t know what you’re talking about. You know how Suzie is, always so sensitive. Maybe she misunderstood something…”
“Don’t lie to me!” I shouted. “You never liked her. You were always looking for ways to criticize her, to make her feel less.”
“I only wanted what was best for you,” she murmured, tears rolling down her cheeks.
But I didn’t want to hear any more. I walked into the house with the girls, closing the door behind me. That night, as the babies slept, I went over and over every interaction between my mother and Suzie, trying to figure out what had happened. Had Suzie endured more than I had noticed?
The next day, while going through Suzie’s things, I found a letter hidden in her jewelry box. It was from my mother and it was full of cruel words:
“Suzie, you will never be enough for my son. Don’t fool yourself into thinking you can catch him with this pregnancy. If you really care about them, you’ll leave before you ruin their lives.”
My hands shook with rage as I held the letter. This was it. It was the reason she had left. My mother had been destroying her behind my back. I went over every interaction, every comment I had dismissed as harmless. How blind had I been?
With the letter in hand, I confronted my mother. “How could you do this? All this time I thought you were just being overprotective, but you actually bullied her for years, didn’t you!”
She tried to justify it. “I just wanted to protect you. Suzie wasn’t good enough for you…”
“She’s the mother of my daughters! You don’t decide who’s good enough for me or for them. It’s over, Mom. Pack your bags and leave.”
She pleaded, but deep down she knew she had no excuse. Two hours later, she left, and I was left alone with the twins, trying to rebuild my life.
For weeks, I tried to track Suzie down. I called friends, family, anyone who might know anything about her. But no one knew anything. Only Sara, a college friend, mentioned anything significant.
“Suzie told me she felt trapped,” Sara confessed. “Not because of you, Ben, but because of everything. The pregnancy, your mother. She told me Mandy told her the girls would be better off without her.”
Every word was like a knife. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
“I was afraid, Ben. I thought your mother might turn you against her. I told her to talk to you, but…I’m sorry, I should have been more insistent.”
Months later, I received a message from an unknown number. It was a picture of Suzie in the hospital, holding the girls, with a short note:
“I wanted to be the mother they deserve. Forgive me.”
I tried calling her, but the number didn’t work. However, that message gave me hope. Suzie was still there, somewhere.
A year later, as we were celebrating the twins’ first birthday, someone knocked on the door. When I opened it, there she was, holding a small gift bag and with tears in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
I hugged her, feeling as if a lost piece of my life had returned.
Suzie told me about postpartum depression, my mother’s cruel words and her feelings of inadequacy. I promised her that we would work together to heal. Although the road was not easy, the love for our daughters helped us rebuild what we had almost lost.
And this time, we were a complete family.