Off The Record
“Sorry, Mom, I Couldn’t Leave Them,” My 16-Year-Old Said As He Walked In Holding Newborn Twins
I thought I was going crazy when my son came in the door with two newborns in his arms. All of my preconceived notions about motherhood, sacrifice, and family were thrown into a thousand pieces when he revealed to me whose children they were.
I never thought my life would turn out this way.
I’m Jennifer, and I’m forty-three years old. After the worst divorce imaginable, the past five years have been a master class in surviving. Derek, my ex-husband, did more than simply leave; he destroyed all we had worked so hard to achieve, leaving Josh and I barely able to make ends meet.
Josh, who is currently 16 years old, has always been my world. Josh harbored the silent hope that his father might return even after he left to start over with a woman half his age. Every day I was broken by the desire in his eyes.
We live in a modest two-bedroom apartment a block from Mercy General Hospital. Josh can walk to school from it, and the rent is reasonable.
It began like any other Tuesday. I heard the front door open as I was in the living room folding laundry. Josh walked rather slowly and with more weight than normal.
“Mom?” I didn’t recognize the edge in his voice. “Mom, you need to come here. Right now.”
I threw down the towel I was carrying and hurried to his room. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
The world ceased to revolve when I entered his doorway.
Josh stood with two small bundles wrapped in hospital blankets in the center of his bedroom. Two infants. infants. Their hands were clenched against their chests, their faces contorted, and their eyes hardly open.
My voice came out choked, “Josh…” “What… what is this? Where did you..?”
He gazed up at me with fear and determination.
Quietly, “I’m sorry, Mom,” he whispered. “I couldn’t leave them.”
My knees started to weaken. “Leave them? Josh, where did you get these babies?”
“They’re twins. A boy and a girl.”
I had trembling hands. “You need to tell me what’s happening right now.”
Josh inhaled deeply. “I went to the hospital this afternoon. My friend Marcus fell off his bike pretty badly, so I took him to get checked out. We were waiting in the ER, and that’s when I saw him.”
“Saw who?”
“Dad.”
I exhaled the air.
“They are Dad’s babies, Mom.”
Unable to comprehend these five words, I froze.
Josh went on, “Dad was storming out of one of the maternity wards,” “He looked angry. I didn’t approach him, but I was curious, so I asked around. You know Mrs. Chen, your friend who works in labor and delivery?”
I gave a numb nod.
“She told me that Sylvia, Dad’s girlfriend, went into labor last night. She had twins.” Josh’s jaw clenched. “And Dad just left. He told the nurses he wanted nothing to do with them.”
I had the impression that I had been punched in the stomach. “No. That can’t be right.”
“It’s true, Mom. I went to see her. Sylvia was alone in that hospital room with two newborn babies, crying so hard she could barely breathe. She’s really sick. Something went wrong during the delivery. The doctors were talking about complications, infections. She could barely hold the babies.”
“Josh, this isn’t our problem…”
He crackled, “They’re my siblings!” “They’re my brother and sister, and they have nobody. I told Sylvia I’d bring them home just for a little while, just to show you, and maybe we could help. I couldn’t just leave them there.”
I lowered myself onto his bed’s edge. “How did they even let you take them? You’re 16 years old.”
“Sylvia signed a temporary release form. She knows who I am. I showed them my ID, proving I was related. Mrs. Chen vouched for me. They said it was irregular, but given the circumstances, Sylvia just kept crying and saying she didn’t know what else to do.”
I gazed at the infants in his embrace. They were so little and delicate.
With tears in my eyes, I said, “You can’t do this. This isn’t your responsibility,”
Josh responded sharply, “Then whose is it?” “Dad’s? He already proved he doesn’t care. What if Sylvia doesn’t make it, Mom? What happens to these babies then?”
“We take them back to the hospital right now. This is too much.”
“Mom, please…”
“No.” I said more firmly now. “Get your shoes on. We’re going back.”
It was a sweltering trip to Mercy General. The twins, one on either side of Josh in the baskets we’d hurriedly retrieved from the garage, sat in the back seat.
Mrs. Chen was waiting for us at the door when we got there. Her expression was pinched with worry.
“Jennifer, I’m so sorry. Josh just wanted to…”
“It’s okay. Where’s Sylvia?”
“Room 314. But, Jennifer, you should know… she’s not doing well. The infection spread faster than we anticipated.”
I felt sick to my stomach. “How bad?”
Mrs. Chen’s face spoke for itself.
Silently, we rode the elevator up. Josh whispered to the two kids when they fussed, carrying them as if he had done it all his life.
We arrived at room 314 and I gave it a soft knock before opening the door.
Sylvia appeared worse than I had anticipated. She had several IVs attached to her and was pale, nearly colorless. She was no older than twenty-five. She started crying as soon as she spotted us.
She wailed, “I’m so sorry,” “I didn’t know what else to do. I’m all alone, and I’m so sick, and Derek…”
“I know,” I muttered. “Josh told me.”
She gazed at the infants in Josh’s arms and said, “He just left. When they told him it was twins, when they told him about my complications, he said he couldn’t handle it.” “I don’t even know if I’m going to make it. What happens to them if I don’t?”
Josh was the first to speak. “We’ll take care of them.”
“Josh…” I began.
“Mom, look at her. Look at these babies. They need us.”
“Why?” I insisted. “Why is this our problem?”
He screamed back, “Because nobody else is!” before lowering his voice. “Because if we don’t step up, they’re going into the system. Foster care. Separated, maybe. Is that what you want?”
I had nothing to say.
Sylvia extended a quivering palm in my direction and said, “Please. I know I have no right to ask. But they’re Josh’s brother and sister. They’re family.”
I gazed upon those small infants, my son, who was no older than a youngster, and this dying woman.
When I eventually said, “I need to make a call,”
From the hospital parking lot, I gave Derek a call. He sounded irritated as he answered on the fourth ring.
“What?”
“It’s Jennifer. We need to talk about Sylvia and the twins.”
A long pause ensued. “How do you know about that?”
“Josh was at the hospital. He saw you leave. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Don’t start. I didn’t ask for this. She told me she was on birth control. This whole thing is a disaster.”
“They’re your children!”
Coldly, “They’re a mistake,” he said. “Look, I’ll sign whatever papers you need. If you want to take them, fine. But don’t expect me to be involved.”
Before I uttered something I would later regret, I hung up.
Derek and his attorney arrived at the hospital one hour later. He did not even request to see the infants before signing the temporary guardianship documents. Then he shrugged and remarked, “They’re not my burden anymore.” He gave me a single glance.
Then he turned to leave.
Josh watched him leave. Silently, “I’m never going to be like him,” he declared. “Never.”
That evening, we took the twins home. I had agreed to interim guardianship while Sylvia was still in the hospital by signing documents that I could hardly understand.
Josh prepared his space for the infants. He had used his personal funds to purchase a used crib from a thrift shop.
I said the feeble words, “You should be doing homework,” “Or hanging out with friends.”
“This is more important,” he said in response.
It was a terrible first week. Josh had already begun referring to the twins as Lila and Mason since they were always crying. Sleepless nights, feedings every two hours, and diaper changes. The majority of it he insisted on performing himself.
Josh often asserted, “They’re my responsibility,”
I would yell back, “You’re not an adult!” as I watched him falter around the apartment at three in the morning while holding a baby in each arm.
However, he never voiced any complaints. Not once.
At strange hours, I would find him in his chamber, warming bottles and softly conversing with the twins about everything and nothing. Before Derek went, he would tell them stories about our family.
On some days, he was so exhausted that he skipped school. His academic performance began to decline. His pals ceased phoning.
Derek, too? No one ever called him again.
After three weeks, everything was different.
Josh was pacing the apartment with Lila screaming in his arms when I got home from my evening shift at the diner.
He said, “Something’s wrong,” right away. “She won’t stop crying, and she feels hot.”
My blood froze when I touched her forehead. “Get the diaper bag. We’re going to the ER. Now.”
A haze of lights and anxious voices filled the emergency room. Lila had a 103-degree temperature. They performed an echocardiography, chest X-rays, and blood work.
Josh wouldn’t go from her side. Tears were flooding down his cheeks as he stood beside the incubator with one hand against the glass.
“Please be okay,” he said repeatedly in a whisper.
We were discovered by a cardiologist at two in the morning.
“We’ve found something. Lila has a congenital heart defect… a ventricular septal defect with pulmonary hypertension. It’s serious, and she needs surgery as soon as possible.”
Josh’s legs buckled. His entire body trembled as he slipped into the closest chair.
“How serious?” I was able to inquire.
“Life-threatening if left untreated. The good news is that it’s operational. But the surgery is complex and expensive.”
I reflected on the small savings account I had been accumulating for Josh’s college expenses. I worked as a cashier at the diner for five years, earning tips and working overtime.
“How much?” I inquired.
My heart fell when she gave me the number. Almost everything would be needed.
Josh gave me a heartbroken look. “Mom, I can’t ask you to… but…”
I cut in, “You’re not asking,” “We’re doing this.”
The following week was the planned date for the procedure. We took Lila home with rigorous instructions on medication and observation in the meantime.
Josh didn’t get much sleep. To see how she was doing, he would set alarms for each hour. He would be sitting on the floor next to the crib at the crack of dawn, observing her chest as it rose and fell.
He asked me one morning, “What if something goes wrong?”
I answered, “Then we deal with it,” “Together.”
We got to the hospital early on the day of the procedure. While I held Mason, Josh held Lila, wrapped in a yellow blanket he had purchased especially for her.
At 7:30 a.m., the surgical team arrived to take her. Before giving her to me, Josh kissed her forehead and said something in a whisper that I couldn’t hear.
We waited after that.
Half an hour. Josh sat motionless with his head in his hands for six hours while pacing the hospital hallways.
A nurse once stopped by with coffee. After giving Josh a quick glance, she muttered, “That little girl is lucky to have a brother like you.”
My heart stopped when the surgeon eventually came out.
She said, “The surgery went well,” and Josh felt a sob that seemed to come from the bottom of his heart. “She’s stable. The operation was successful. She’ll need time to heal, but the prognosis is good.”
Josh got to his feet, staggering a little. “Can I see her?”
“Soon. She’s in recovery. Give us another hour.”
Lila was in the pediatric intensive care unit for five days. From visiting hours until security forced him to leave at night, Josh was there every single day. Through the apertures of the incubator, he would grasp her small hand.
“We’re going to the park,” he would advise. “And I’ll push you on the swings. And Mason’s going to try to steal your toys, but I won’t let him.”
I received a call from the hospital’s social services division during one of those visits. It has to do with Sylvia. That morning, she had died. Her circulation had become infected.
She had updated her legal documents before to her death. Josh and I were designated as the twins’ legal guardians by her. She had left a message:
“Josh showed me what family really means. Please take care of my babies. Tell them their mama loved them. Tell them Josh saved their lives.”
I sobbed as I sat in the hospital cafeteria. For those babies, for Sylvia, and for the predicament we had found ourselves in.
Josh was silent for a while after I told him. He simply embraced Mason more tightly and muttered, “We’re going to be okay. All of us.”
The call regarding Derek arrived three months later.
On Interstate 75, a car collision occurred. He had been on his way to a charity function. died when struck.
I had no feelings. Only a flimsy admission that he had existed and was no longer there.
Josh responded similarly. “Does this change anything?”
“No,” I replied. “Nothing changes.”
since it didn’t. As soon as Derek left that hospital, he was no longer important.
It’s been a year since Josh and his two newborns entered the room on a Tuesday afternoon.
Our family has grown to four members. Josh will soon begin his senior year at the age of 17. Mason and Lila are chatting, walking, and becoming involved in everything. Our apartment is in disarray, with toys all over the place, enigmatic stains, and a steady stream of sobbing and laughter.
Josh has changed. aged in ways that are unrelated to years. Even now, when I’m too exhausted, he feeds at midnight. still reads stories in many voices before bed. and continues to freak out when one of them sneezes too forcefully.
He stopped playing football. ceased spending time with the majority of his pals. His plans for college have changed. He is currently considering a nearby community college.
I detest how much he is giving up. However, he simply nods his head when I try to discuss it with him.
“They’re not a sacrifice, Mom. They’re my family.”
He was sleeping on the floor between the two cribs last week, with one hand reaching up to each one. Mason was holding Josh’s finger in his little fist.
As I watched them from the doorway, I reflected on that first day. About how angry I was, how scared I was, and how utterly unprepared I was.
I’m still not sure if we made the proper decision. Sometimes I question whether we should have made different decisions when the bills are piling up and fatigue feels like quicksand.
However, I am aware of the truth when Lila chuckles at something Josh does or when Mason reaches for him first thing in the morning.
A year ago, my son entered the room holding two infants, and his words, “Sorry, Mom, I couldn’t leave them,” were the turning point in our relationship.
He stayed with them. He kept them safe. And he saved us all in the process.
We are knit together in certain ways and broken in others. We’re worn out and unsure. We are a family, though. And that’s sufficient at times.
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