Her face went pale as she thumbed through the letter. ‘Ben, listen to me…’
‘No!’ I interrupted her. ‘You listen to me. Susie left because of you. Because of how you made her feel worthless. And now she’s gone and I’m here, trying to raise two kids by myself.’
‘I only wanted to protect you,’ she whispered. ‘She wasn’t good enough…’
‘She’s the mother of my children! You don’t get to decide who’s good enough for me or for them. You’re done, mum. Pack your things. Get out.’
The tears were pouring freely now. ‘You don’t mean that.’
‘Yes,’ I said, cold as steel.
She opened her mouth to object, but stopped. The look in my eyes must have told her I wasn’t bluffing. She left an hour later, her car disappearing down the street.
The following weeks were a living hell.
Between sleepless nights, dirty nappies and the endless crying (of the babies and me) I had little time to think.
But every quiet moment brought me back to thinking about Susie. I contacted her friends and family, hoping to find some hint of where she might be. None of them had heard from her. But one of them, her college friend Sarah, hesitated before speaking up.
‘She was saying she feels…trapped,’ Sarah admitted over the phone. ‘Not because of you, Ben, but because of everything. The pregnancy, your mum. She told me once that Mandy said the twins would be better off without her.’
The knife dug deeper. ‘Why didn’t she tell me my mum was telling her things like that?’
‘She was afraid, Ben. She thought Mandy might turn you against her. I asked her to talk to you, but…’ Sarah’s voice broke. ‘I’m really sorry. I should have pushed harder.’
‘Do you think she’s okay?’
‘I hope so,’ Sarah said quietly. ‘Susie’s stronger than she looks. But Ben…keep looking for her.’
Weeks turned into months.
One afternoon, while Callie and Jessica were napping, my phone rang. It was a message from an unlisted number.
When I opened it, it took my breath away. It was a picture of Susie holding the twins in her arms at the hospital, her face pale but serene. Underneath it was a message:
‘I wish I could be the kind of mother they deserve. I hope you will forgive me.’
I immediately called the number but the call did not go through.
I wrote back, but my messages didn’t get through either. It was like screaming into the void. But the picture gave me resolve again. Susie was out there. She was alive, and at least some part of her was still pining for us, though she was clearly uncomfortable. I would never give up on her.
A year went by without any leads or clues to Susie’s whereabouts. The twins’ first birthday was bittersweet. I put all my energy into raising them, but the ache for Susie never left me.
That evening, as the girls were playing in the living room, there was a knock on the door.
At first I thought I was dreaming. Susie stood on the doorstep clutching a small gift bag, her eyes full of tears. She looked healthier, her cheeks fuller and her posture more confident. But there was still sadness behind the smile.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered.
I didn’t think. I pulled her to me and hugged her as tightly as I could. She sobbed into my shoulder, and for the first time in a year, I felt whole.
In the weeks that followed, Susie told me how postpartum depression, my mum’s cruel words and feelings of inadequacy overcame her.
She left to protect the twins and escape the spiral of self-loathing and despair. Therapy helped her recover, taking one painstaking step at a time.
‘I didn’t want to leave,’ she said one night, sitting on the nursery floor as the girls slept. ‘But I didn’t know how to stay.’
I took her hand. ‘We’ll figure this out. Together.’
And we did figure it out. It wasn’t easy – healing is never easy. But the love, resilience, and shared joy of watching Callie and Jessica grow was enough to restore what we had nearly lost.