Off The Record
3 Heartbreaking Stories of Little Children Who Were Abandoned
Why would a parent leave their own child behind? Come along on a journey through three compelling tales that reveal the unfiltered feelings and unbelievable decisions parents make. See the agonizing choices and the unwavering hope for salvation, from the cramped confines of an airline seat to the sterile walls of a hospital.
We are frequently faced with difficult decisions in life. These three tales examine how some trying situations lead to parents forsaking their children.
As we journey through the lives of three parents who had to split up with their kids, get ready for an intense emotional ride.
1. I Left My Newborn on a Business Class Plane Seat, Then Decided to Find Him 13 Years Later
My heart was hurting with every breath as I gazed at the small bundle of joy in my arms. The maelstrom of emotions erupting inside of me was too strong for the quiet hum of the airplane engines to muffle. I was going to have to make the biggest decision of my life at the age of 19.
“Miss, can I get you anything?” I was shocked to hear the flight attendant’s voice.
“No, thank you,” I forced a smile and managed a whisper.
I glanced down at my son’s dozing face as she continued on. In what way did I get here? My biggest concern as a carefree teenager was what to wear to prom, and it seemed like that was only yesterday.
Then the pregnancy test came back positive. My partner Peter’s reaction when I told him will always be emblazoned in my mind. He had muttered, “I can’t do this, Rhonda,” and turned to go without turning around.
The response from my father was even worse. “Get rid of it, or get out,” he had scowled, fury reddening his features. I became homeless instantly after making my baby’s choice.
I walked the streets aimlessly for months, my expanding belly serving as a continuous reminder of my uncertain future. Then, on a public sidewalk, I gave birth, as if fate had a sick sense of humor.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” A gentle-looking woman materialized at my side. “Let’s get you to a hospital.”
That’s how I ended up giving birth to my son at a hospital. The person who drove me there, Angela, told me she flew a tiny plane. She offered me an alternative that was too good to pass up after I told her I didn’t want to live in the same city that held memories of my past.
She responded, “I want to help you,” and she gave me a business class ticket to New York City. “This is your chance for a fresh start.”
Now that the plane was over the clouds, I had to make an impossible decision. As a poor adolescent, how could I give this helpless boy the life he deserved?
My hands shaking, I scrawled a note.
“As a poor mother, I was unable to provide for my child. If you find this message, don’t waste your time trying to find me. I never would have been able to provide him a good life. I wish you would embrace and value him as your own. It would please me if you gave him the name Matthew. Harris, Matthew. I had decided on that name for him.”
I gave him one last kiss on the forehead before tears clouded my vision. Then, in a heartbreaking moment of desperation, I left him on the vacant seat next to me and turned to leave, feeling as though every step was a dagger to my heart.
The flight attendants started cleaning the seats as soon as the aircraft was empty. Lincy was among them when she heard an odd mewling sound that seemed to come from a kitten inside the aircraft. She eventually found my kid by following the sound to my seat.
Thirteen years flew by, filled with setbacks and minor triumphs. I put in a lot of overtime because I was motivated to succeed. And I dreamed of the baby child I’d left behind every night.
I finally worked up the guts to look for him. The flight attendant who chose to look after my child, Lincy, was located with the assistance of the police, who I notified.
Lincy cautioned me, “He’s angry,” as she guided me to her house. “But he agreed to meet you.”
My heart stopped when I saw him. My eyes were on him.
“My mother? I must be dreaming.” Matthew’s tone was laced with poison. “Over the years, where have you been? You are not necessary for me! With my adopted parents, I’m content.”
Coughing out, “I’m sorry, Matthew,” “I know you’re upset, and you don’t want to accept me, but can’t you give me one chance?”
He exclaimed, “No way!” “You are a cruel woman who abandoned me on my own. I would currently be at an orphanage if my parents hadn’t adopted me.”
Lincy intervened and clarified my circumstances. Matthew’s rage appeared to subside gradually.
At last, he murmured, “Maybe I can forgive you.” “I can’t call you mom, though. There is just one mother that I know.”
With optimism blossoming in my chest, I answered, “It’s all right, Matthew.” “Can I come to see you at least on weekends?”
“That’s okay, I don’t mind,” he said.
Our relationship developed over the ensuing ten years. Matthew is currently a prominent data scientist in New York City at the age of 23. As for me, I’ve recently begun dating Andrew, who is a fantastic man.
As I get ready to meet Matthew for our weekly dinner today, I’m feeling both anxious and excited. In the hopes of getting his approval, I intend to tell him about Andrew.
Funny how life always seems to come full circle. Though it almost broke me, the choice I took on that plane thirteen years ago brought us to this point. To love, to understand, and to forgive.
I give a silent thank you to Angela Bamford, wherever she may be, as I knock on Matthew’s door. Her generosity provided me the confidence to make that difficult decision and the fortitude to figure out how to get back.
Matthew smiles at me as the door opens. He greets Rhonda with a smile. “Come on in.”
And with that, I know that everything will work out.
2. I’m Raising My Sister’s Kid, but My Parents Still Hate Me
I was always aware that I was the family outcast. By the time I was five, it was brutally obvious that Madeline was the center of my parents’ universe. I was Chloe, the person who was always left out and never quite measured up.
“Chloe! Have you completed doing the laundry?” Mom’s high-pitched voice sliced like a scalpel through my mind.
I sighed and yelled back, “Almost done, Mom,” folding another shirt.
At sixteen, I juggled housework and a covert part-time job to save money for my escape while other girls focused about prom outfits. Then the bombshell arrived.
One evening at supper, Madeline declared, “I’m pregnant.”
Dad’s fork clattered out of his hand. “What? How could you possibly be so careless?”
Mom started crying. “Oh, sweetie, what are we going to do?”
As usual, I sat there invisibly, observing the scene play out. Their astonishment gave way to exhilaration in a matter of minutes.
Mom gushed, “You’ll keep it, of course.” “We’ll help you every step of the way!”
My ears were unbelievable to me. It was not something I wanted to think about if it had been me.
The months passed quickly, and before long, little Brandon came into our family. He had a face that could melt even the coldest heart, ten tiny fingers, and ten tiny toes. He was perfect.
“Chloe, can you change Brandon?” Madeline used to moan from her sofa.
I would mumble, “Sure,” and go for the diaper bag. It had become a rote ritual.
When I entered Madeline’s room one afternoon, she was packing a suitcase.
“What’s going on?” With a beating heart, I asked.
“Zak and I are heading out. We’re leaving this garbage behind.”
“But…what about Brandon?” I stumbled and pointed to the baby’s soundly sleeping cot.
“Not my problem anymore,” she said with a shrug. “You seem to have it under control.”
“Madeline, you can’t just abandon your baby!” I sobbed, panicking and raising my voice.
“Observe me,” she scoffed as she closed her purse. “My age is eighteen. My entire life lies ahead of me.”
In an instant, she vanished from my life, leaving me to stand in her deserted chamber and gaze at the sleeping baby who had recently lost his own mother.
When I finally made it downstairs, my folks were in the living room. Mom was crying on the couch, and Dad was pacing.
“She’s gone,” I murmured in a hollow voice. “She left Brandon.”
They shook their heads, but not because they were worried about their grandchild. No, what mattered was that their beloved Madeline was no longer with them.
“Who’s going to take care of Brandon?” I questioned, a hint of desperation in my voice.
Dad’s expression twisted with rage. “Chloe, leave. Is it not evident that we are addressing a significant matter?”
The last bit of faith I had in my parents’ love was dashed there. There was nothing I could do to make them stop actually hating me.
I went back to my room and held Brandon tight. With tears flowing down my cheeks, I whispered, “It’s just you and me now, little guy.” “But I promise, I’ll never abandon you like she did.”
The ensuing years were a jumble of restless evenings, soiled diapers, and never-ending challenges. But every obstacle made me more determined. Working nonstop between feedings and diaper changes, I studied for my GED.
I saved up enough money to ultimately relocate us out when Brandon was three years old. My parents scarcely noticed as I packed our minimal stuff and headed off.
After a few years, I got to know Dallas, a generous law student who shared my affection for Brandon. Together, we created our own family and a life.
Then one day the door started to knock. When I opened it, I saw Madeline standing there—a complete stranger with eyes I knew well.
“I want to see my son,” she pushed by me and insisted.
“I refused to back down. Madeline, you gave him up years ago. Now he’s my son.”
“He can’t be kept away from me! I am his mommy.”
“No,” I asserted forcefully. “I’m his mom. Every success, every nightmare, and every skinned knee—I’ve been there. “Where did you go?”
Madeline lunged towards me, but Dallas stopped her, threatening to dial 911.
I was able to formally adopt Brandon with Dallas’s assistance, solidifying my motherhood. We shut them down when Madeline came back with our parents and demanded custody.
My heart grew full of love that night as I snuggled Brandon into bed. He whispered drowsily, “Mommy, I love you.”
As I kissed his forehead, tears shot across my eyes. “My love is also for you, my dear. More than you can ever imagine.”
It dawned on me then that family isn’t always about blood. It’s about deciding to be there no matter what, love, and sacrifice.
3. I Raised My Sister’s Triplets After She Died in Labor, Then Their Dad Appeared
“Inhale.” I told my laboring sister Leah, “It’s all going to be okay.” Her situation deteriorated as her pulse started to plummet.
“Please remain! Nurse, what is going on? Leah, look at me!” I grabbed her hand and yelled.
As she led me out of the operating room, Dr. Nichols remarked, “Doctor Spellman, you need to leave, please.”
I collapsed onto a chair in the waiting room, grief and terror whirling through my head. I knew something wasn’t right when my colleague’s voice interrupted me in the middle of my thought process.
“How…how’s Leah?” With my heart racing, I enquired.
“We sincerely apologize, Thomas,” Dr. Nichols stated.
“Despite our best efforts, we were unable to halt the bleeding. The kids have been moved into the NICU and are safe.”
I flopped back down on the chair, too stunned to believe that Leah was dead. I covered my face in my hands as I trembled from sadness. After a short while, I inhaled deeply, got to my feet, and left the hospital.
I thought of Leah as I stepped outside and gazed up at the brilliant heavens. “I vowed to try my hardest to assist you. I promise to provide a decent life for your children.”
Leah’s ex-boyfriend Joe appeared out of nowhere and barged into the hospital. He insisted, “Where is your sister?”
Furious, I snatched up his collar. “She has passed away! My sister never got to see her children! Leave my hospital now!”
Joe yelled out, “Thomas, I’m going to get my kids back!” “You are unable to take them from me.”
I knew right then that I had to keep my nephews safe. Presenting proof of Joe’s alcohol consumption and absences during Leah’s pregnancy, I fought for custody. The court decided in my advantage.
However, I had a bittersweet victory. Susannah, my wife, packed her luggage and headed off. “Thomas, I didn’t marry you to be in this situation. I apologize,” she replied and turned to leave.
I was heartbroken, but I kept my attention on raising Jayden, Noah, and Andy. The years flew by, filled with priceless moments and restless nights. Although the boys made me happy, the stress had a negative impact on my health.
I passed out one day at work. A few months later, Joe’s attorney disclosed that I was taking medication for a brain tumor at a custody court he had started. It was accurate.
The judge gave custody to Joe in a compassionate but strong manner.
Brokenhearted, I got ready to say farewell. “We would like to move in with you, Uncle Thomas! The kids clung to me and begged, “ Please, Uncle Thomas.
“Girls,” I said, fighting back tears. “I desire your happiness. Joe will make sure you’re content. Could you quickly hurry and move your belongings to his car?”
They turned back to me and gave me a strong hug as they packed their things. “Uncle Thomas, you are loved.” Jayden sobbed, “I don’t want to leave you,” and Noah and Andy agreed.
Something changed in Joe when he saw our link. As he realized how deeply we were connected, he joined in the embrace. “Thomas, you were correct all along. We ought to fight for the children’s sake rather than our own.”
Joe agreed to co-parent and assisted me in bringing the boys’ bags inside the house. Despite the uncertain future I faced, I took comfort in the knowledge that my nephews would grow up to be loved by both their father and uncle.
That evening, as I put them to bed, I said in a hushed voice, “Your mom would be so proud of you.” I sensed Leah’s presence and knew that I had fulfilled my pledge to provide her kids with a happy, loving, and family-filled existence.
Ultimately, these three tales serve as a reminder that love has no bounds. The theme of unconditional love unites them all, whether it’s a mother trying to find her way back to her child, a sister raising her nephew, or an uncle struggling to provide for his sister’s children.
They teach us that family is defined by our decisions and the love we offer, not always by blood.
In case you liked these stories, here’s another one you might find interesting: Claire lovingly renovates her mom’s home after inheriting it from her beloved grandmother. Claire’s preparations are derailed, though, when her estranged sister Emma unexpectedly reappears after a fourteen-year absence and demands a portion of the estate. Now, what will she do?
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