4 Emotional Stories of Newborns Entangled in Family Drama from Day One

What occurs when brutality, treachery, or tragic abandonment overshadow the happiness of welcoming a newborn? These four heartbreaking tales will keep you on the edge of your seat as they show how families dealt with the most severe injuries inflicted by the people they cared about the most.

The cry of a newborn should be one of love, hope, and fresh starts. However, these families experienced heartache, deceit, and betrayal when their children arrived. Every narrative exposes the harsh realities of adjusting to parenting while bearing the most severe injuries perpetrated by those closest to oneself.

Story 1: My husband told me to leave our newborn triplets in the hospital when he arrived to take us home.

The arrival of our triplets, Sophie, Lily, and Grace, was a dream come true after years of trying to conceive. I was overcome with love as I held my little children in the hospital room, their serene faces.

However, there was a problem when my husband Jack arrived the following day to take us home. He moved hesitantly and had a pallid face. Refusing to approach, he hovered outside the door.

In an attempt to calm him, I murmured softly, “Jack, come look at them. They’re here. These adorable little angels. We did it.”

His eyes darted to the bassinets as he crept closer. He mumbled, “Yeah… they’re beautiful,” but the statement sounded insincere.

My voice was shaking as I urged, “What’s going on?”

“Emily, I don’t think we can keep them,” he exclaimed after taking a long breath.

My heart sank as I gazed at him. “What are you talking about? They’re OUR daughters!”

Jack averted his gaze, his words faltering. “My mom went to see a fortune teller. She said… she said these babies will bring bad luck. That they’ll ruin my life… even cause my death.”

Disbelief swept over me as I paused. “A fortune teller?” I asked again, raising my voice. “Jack, they’re babies, not bad omens!”

He nodded sternly, but his face was torn. “My mom swears by her. She’s never been wrong before.”

My chest boiled with anger. “And because of this, you want to abandon them? You want to leave your own daughters in the hospital?”

Jack was unable to look me in the eye. He responded feebly, “I won’t be there, but if you want to keep them, that’s fine.”

As his words sank in, my eyes became blurry with tears. “Jack,” I muttered, my voice cracking, “don’t come back if you go out that door.”

His eyes flickered with shame as he hesitated for a second. But without saying another word, he turned and walked away.

I sat stunned when the door closed behind him. Shortly after, a nurse came in, her expression softening as she observed my tears. “I’ll always be here for you. I promise,” she whispered as she put a hand on my shoulder and I held my girls tighter.

I adapted to being a single mother during the next few weeks. My love for Sophie, Lily, and Grace kept me going even though raising triplets by myself was overwhelming. Where they could, friends and relatives provided support, but Jack’s abandonment still weighed heavily.

Then Jack’s sister, Beth, came over one afternoon. One of the few members of his family who had supported me was her. Her face hurt that day, and I could tell she had something to say.

“Emily,” she said with hesitation, “I overheard Mom talking to Aunt Carol. She… she admitted there was no fortune teller.”

I went cold. “What are you saying?”

Beth sighed, regret visible on her features. “She made it up. She thought that if she convinced Jack the girls would bring bad luck, he’d stay close to her instead of focusing on you and the babies. Moreover, she had wanted grandsons. And she was really disappointed right from the gender reveal party. I guess she’d been planning this for a long time.”

“She lied to destroy our family,” I murmured, my hands quivering as rage swept through me. “How could she?”

Beth gave a nod. “I don’t think she realized he’d actually leave, but I thought you should know.”

That night, I didn’t get any sleep. I needed Jack to know the truth more than I wanted to confront him. I gave him a call the following morning.

I remarked, “Jack, it’s me,” in response to his response. “We need to talk.”

He let out a deep sigh. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Your mother lied,” I shouted, my voice shaking with rage. “There was no fortune teller. She made it up because she didn’t want to share you with us. She wanted grandsons. She was disappointed right from the gender reveal party.”

On the other end, there was silence. At last, he sneered. “My mom wouldn’t lie about something this big.”

“She admitted it to her sister, Jack. Beth overheard her. Why would I make this up?”

He said, “I’m sorry, Emily,” in a curt manner. “I can’t do this.”

The line died.

Months passed. I became stronger every day and centered my life on my girls. With the help of friends and neighbors, Jack’s pain gradually subsided. Grace, Lily, and Sophie became my entire universe; their coos and grins warmed my spirit.

Then Jack’s mom came to knock on my door one day. Her eyes were filled with regret, and her face was pallid.

She cried as she said, “I’m sorry,” in a whisper. “I never thought Jack would leave you. I just… I was scared of losing him.”

I suppressed my rage by crossing my arms. “And what about your preference for grandsons over granddaughters? Your fear and selfishness destroyed my family,” I replied sternly.

With a crumpled expression, she nodded. “I’m so sorry. I’ll do anything to make it right.”

I gave a headshake. “There’s nothing you can do. Please leave.”

Her shoulders drooped as she left.

Jack arrived at my house a year later, looking thin and embarrassed. He said, “I made a mistake,” in a voice that broke. “I should have believed you. I’m sorry. I want to come back. I want to be a family again.”

However, I had already decided.

“You left us when we needed you most,” I firmly stated. “We’ve built a life without you, and I won’t let you hurt us again.”

With a firm and steady heart, I shut the door.

We didn’t need Jack, I concluded as I rocked my girls to sleep that night. Just my girls and I made up our entire family.

Although newborns are a sign of hope and fresh starts, these tales show how family strife may have a lasting impact. These parents’ fortitude in the face of heartache demonstrates that love for their kids can withstand any hardship.

Story 2: I only found the babies and a note when I went to pick up my wife and newborn twins from the hospital.

That day, I was beaming as I drove to the hospital with balloons floating next to me. I was eager to bring Suzie and our twin children, Jessica and Callie, home. I had devoted days to organizing a warm welcome, preparing a family meal, and perfecting the nursery. But everything fell apart when I got there.

Suzie had left.

I discovered a note waiting for me and my daughters soundly dozing in their bassinets:

“Goodbye. Take care of them. Ask your mother WHY she did this to me.”

Like a freight train, the words struck. I read them again with shaking hands. This couldn’t possibly be real. Did Suzie not feel happy?

A nurse came in carrying discharge paperwork, but when I insisted on knowing Suzie’s location, her composed demeanor broke down. Her words, “She checked out this morning,” were terse. “She told us you knew.”

I had no idea. With my girls in the backseat and the note crumpled in my fist, I drove home in a trance. My mother, Mandy, welcomed me home with a casserole dish and a big smile on the porch.

She said, “Oh, let me see my grandbabies!”

I took a step back, keeping the car seat in place for protection. “Not yet, Mom,” I remarked icily as I pushed the message in her direction. “What did you do to Suzie?”

Her face turned pale as she read the note, and her grin dimmed. “Ben, I don’t know—”

“Don’t lie to me! You’ve never liked her! You’ve always criticized and undermined her. What did you do that pushed her to take this extreme step?”

As she rushed into the house, tears filled her eyes. “I’ve only ever tried to help.”

I was no longer able to trust her. As the twins slept that night, I looked for solutions. I discovered a note in my mother’s handwriting among Suzie’s belongings:

“Suzie, you’ll never be good enough for my son. You’ve trapped him with this pregnancy, but don’t think you can fool me. If you care about them, you’ll leave before you ruin their lives.”

I was so shocked by what I saw that I went straight to my mother. She made an effort to defend herself by claiming to be defending me, but I was done.

I shouted, “You drove her away! Pack your things. You’re leaving tonight,” so there was no space for debate. I wasn’t paying attention to her attempts to calm me down.

The damage was done, but she was gone.

I had to balance restless nights and desperate looks for Suzie over the next few weeks. Desperate for a clue, I contacted her relatives and friends.

At last, Sara, her friend, admitted, “Suzie felt trapped… not by you, but by everything. Your mom told her the twins would be better off without her. Your mom had been so manipulative and controlling.”

The blade twisted farther. For fear that I wouldn’t believe her, Suzie had been going through pain in silence.

Months went by with no communication. I got a text message one day from an unidentified number. It was a picture of Suzie with the twins in the hospital. There was a message underneath it:

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

I dialed the number, but it was disconnected. “Suzie? Is it you? Oh my God… please come home. Please… please,” I begged. It simply made me more determined to find her.

However, I was unable to locate my wife as the days flew by like leaves on a breeze. Then, on the twins’ first birthday, a year later, there was a knock on the door.

Suzie was standing there with tears in her eyes and a small present bag in her hand. The grief persisted even if she appeared healthier. Whispering, “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Suzie?!” I exclaimed as I drew her into my arms, tears streaming down my face. I felt whole for the first time in a year.

“I’d been such a fool to give in to your mom’s words and run away from my own family. I thought… I thought I wasn’t good enough, like she’d said,” she was crying.

As we walked over to our toddlers, I kissed her forehead and whispered, “Let’s not talk about her anymore. I’m glad that you’re back… to us,”

Over the next few weeks, Suzie became more forthcoming. She had been pushed out by postpartum depression, her own feelings of inadequacy, and my mother’s hostility. She had gained strength through therapy, but the scars persisted.

One night she said, “I didn’t want to leave,” as her palm shook in mine. “But I didn’t know how to stay.”

I assured them, “We’ll figure it out,”

And we did. Although it wasn’t easy, love, resiliency, and the joy of raising Callie and Jessica together helped us to heal. We worked together to restore what had nearly been destroyed.

Story 3: My belongings were thrown out, the locks were changed, and a note was waiting for me when I returned home with my newborn twins.

One of the best days of my life should have been the day I was released from the hospital with my newborn twin girls, Ella and Sophie. Rather, it turned into a nightmare that will never be forgotten.

We were scheduled to be picked up by my husband Derek, but he called at the last minute.

“Mom’s really unwell,” he abruptly said. “I need to take her to the hospital. I can’t make it to you.”

I was taken aback. “Derek, I just gave birth. I need you here.”

He sighed. “I know,” he said. “But this is serious. I’ll come to you as soon as I can.”

I wasn’t sure Derek would be going back anytime soon because I knew his mother, Lorraine, and his propensity to put her first. I reluctantly made arrangements for a cab to drive the girls and I home.

I froze when we got there. The yard was littered with my diaper bags, suitcases, and even the crib mattress. As I paid the driver and went to the door, panic began to set in and I called out, “Derek?”

No response.

I tried using my key. However, it was unsuccessful. They had replaced the locks. When I noticed a message affixed to a suitcase, my pulse began to race:

“Get out of here with your little moochers! I know everything. — Derek”

My breath caught. What I was reading was unbelievable. Derek, the man who had supported me during my whole pregnancy, couldn’t be here.

When I tried to call him, the call went straight to voicemail. Time and time again, but no response. Ella and Sophie began to sob, their cries echoing the anxiety in my chest. I called my mother, trembling.

When I said, “Derek changed the locks,” I gasped. “He threw me out. There’s a note… Mom, I don’t understand.”

“WHAT?!” she cried out. “I’m coming right now.”

She barely controlled her wrath when she arrived and gave me a hard hug. “This doesn’t make sense. Derek loves you and the girls. Let’s go to my place until we figure this out.”

I tried to piece things together at her residence. Derek’s quiet simply made me more anxious, and the note didn’t make sense. I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to face him.

I came back to the house in the morning. Everything I owned was gone, and the yard was deserted. I rapped on the door and looked out the window. I froze when I saw Lorraine drinking tea at the dining table.

She smirked as she opened the door a crack as I knocked. “You’re not welcome here, Jenna. Didn’t you see the note?”

I yelled, “Where’s Derek?”

“He’s at the hospital, taking care of his mother.”

I said, “You’re not sick!” “And you’re NOT in the hospital!”

She grinned. “I’m feeling better now. Miracles happen.”

The dawn of realization was oppressive. “You lied to him. You faked being sick to get him out of the house.”

“And?” she asked without concern.

“Why? Why would you do this?”

Her lips formed a ruthless smile as she crossed her arms. “I told Derek from the start that our family needs a boy to carry on the name. But you? You gave us two girls. Useless.”

I was completely taken aback by her words.

“You threw us out over that?”

“Of course. I even made sure he couldn’t call you by taking his phone. He stayed there overnight, worried, thinking I was truly ill. I bribed a nurse this morning to keep him at the hospital longer to discuss my ‘illness.’ And you know what? It worked perfectly!

My naive son believed me when I told him I needed some fresh air and was going for a walk. I just wanted to get back to our beloved home for a hot shower with my favorite bath bombs and some nice chamomile tea! And if you’re planning on exposing me to my son… forget it! Derek loves me too much to believe you, honey!”

Furious, I hurried out and drove directly to the hospital, where Derek was pacing the waiting area.

“Jenna!” he exclaimed, his face beamed with relief. “I’ve been trying to reach you, but I don’t have my phone.”

I interrupted, “Your mother stole it,” ” “She faked being sick, locked me out of the house, and left that awful note.”

Anger marred his face. “What?”

“She said it’s because our daughters aren’t boys.”

Derek took his keys and drove us home without saying another word. When we got there, Lorraine’s arrogant look subsided.

“Derek, darling—”

He yelled, “STOP!” “You lied to me, locked my wife and children out of our home, and wrote a fake note to drive them away. What’s wrong with you?”

He refused to listen to her stuttering excuses.

“Pack your things and leave. You’re done here.”

She broke down in tears. “You can’t mean that. I’m your mother!”

“And Jenna is my wife. Those are my daughters. If you can’t respect them, you’re not welcome in our lives.”

She snarled, “You’ll regret this,” as she slammed doors and packed her belongings.

Derek apologized several times that evening. He reported the bribed nurse, banned Lorraine’s number, and reinstalled the locks. We rebuilt our lives over time. Despite Lorraine’s attempts to harm us, we became closer.

Story 4: As soon as my husband saw our newborn twin daughters in the hospital ward, he left me.

I believed that having twin daughters would finally strengthen my marriage to Mark after years of infertility. Even though the pregnancy had been difficult, it felt worth it as I lay in my hospital bed with Ella and Sophie at my sides.

They’re here, I texted Mark. Two lovely girls. Looking forward to meeting them.

I pictured him running in with happy tears in his eyes. But he didn’t look happy when the door opened. It was icy.

“Hey,” I said, attempting to maintain a grin despite my fatigue. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

Mark’s jaw tensed as a look of contempt flashed across his face as his gaze fell on the girls. He whispered, “What the hell is this?”

I scowled in confusion. “What do you mean? They’re our daughters!”

He yelled, “You tricked me!” with a hint of malice in his voice.

My heart fell. “What are you talking about? They’re healthy, Mark. Perfect. What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” he asked with a sour laugh. “You didn’t tell me they were girls! You knew I wanted boys. I thought we were having boys!”

Startled, I blinked. “You’re upset because… they’re girls?”

He took a step back and said, “Damn right, I’m upset!” with a look that suggested he was glaring at random people. “This whole family was supposed to carry on my name. You’ve ruined EVERYTHING.”

My eyes filled with tears, and my chest constricted. “Mark, please, they’re our daughters—”

“No,” he interrupted, shook his head. “You betrayed me. These aren’t even mine.”

The charge was like a kick to the stomach. My mind was racing to figure out how the man who had been my rock could say something so disgusting that I was unable to speak.

He stormed out, slamming the door behind him before I could reply.

I looked down at my girls after gaping at the door in disbelief. As though sensing my desire for reassurance, their small hands snuggled up on my chest. I muttered, “It’s okay, sweethearts,” but I wasn’t positive.

Days went by. home the hopes that all would work out and that Mark would come back to apologize for a foolish miscommunication, I moved home with my parents. However, he disappeared without any trace.

While I struggled with restless nights and an unending supply of diapers, rumors circulated that he was on vacation in a tropical paradise. Although the betrayal was painful, his mother Sharon’s call was the hardest part yet.

Hersing in a voicemail, “You ruined everything,” “Mark deserved sons, not… this. How could you betray him like that?”

The messages continued. Sharon was full of accusations: my girls weren’t suitable for their family, I was a bad wife, and I had cheated.

My haven was the nursery. I was breaking on the inside, even though I rocked Ella and Sophie to sleep every night while murmuring, “I’ll keep you safe. We’ll be okay.”

I was waiting for Mark to return, but he didn’t deserve us, I realized one sleepless night as I held the kids. I had to do something for my daughters, not for him.

I found optimism when I hired a lawyer.

“With Mark’s abandonment,” she said, “you’re in a strong position. Full custody. Child support. We’ll handle visitation on your terms.”

I felt empowered for the first time in weeks.

I started to rebuild. I posted pictures of Ella and Sophie on social media, showing their little milestones, giggles, and gummy smiles. Without Mark, every post was a celebration of our new life. The posts circulated throughout our group, and friends came together to support me.

Mark was not gone for long. To introduce my daughters to friends and relatives, I threw an open house one day. The twins wore matching dresses with small bows, and the house was filled with laughter and warmth.

The door suddenly flung open.

Mark was standing there, angry and wild-eyed. He said, “What the hell is this?”

I refused to back down. “It’s our life, Mark. The one you walked out on.”

He raised his voice and shouted, “You turned everyone against me!”

“You did that yourself when you abandoned your family because you didn’t get the sons you wanted,” I responded.

He shouted, “You robbed me of my legacy!”

I took a step forward him, looking him in the eye. “You didn’t deserve us, Mark. You made your choice, and this is mine. You’re not welcome here.”

I was surrounded by friends, and Mark had to back off due to their quiet encouragement. Feeling ashamed, he hurried away.

Mark received court documents outlining child support and custody a few weeks later. Even if he did not want to be a father, he could not avoid his duty.

Regarding Sharon, no one read her last message. I had had enough of their family.

I experienced a deep sense of calm that night as I rocked my girls to sleep. It wasn’t a loss that Mark was gone. It was liberty. And I realized that our future was better without him as I clung to Ella and Sophie.