Mums
“Good morning, mums. How are we all doing?” A lovely obstetrician-gynaecologist stepped into the postnatal ward early in the morning. Dressed in a white coat and a starched cap, she looked absolutely stunning.
She walked to the bed on the left by the entrance, where a young new mother lay turned toward the wall.
“Wilson, stop pretending to sleep. Roll onto your back. I need to check your stomach,” the doctor said firmly.
Wilson reluctantly turned over. Kate recognised her instantly—they’d given birth around the same time last night. The doctor leaned down, pulled back the blanket, lifted the faded hospital gown, and gently pressed the young woman’s stomach.
“Perfect. They’ll bring your son for feeding soon. Are you ready?” the doctor asked, tucking the blanket back and straightening up.
The new, young mother’s eyes widened with fear.
“I won’t feed him,” she said desperately.
“And why’s that?”
“Please, don’t bring him to me,” Wilson begged, looking pleadingly at the doctor.
“What’s going on, Wilson? You don’t want to see your son? Are you thinking of giving him up?” the doctor guessed. The young mother nodded. The doctor studied her reproachfully.
“Right. I’ll finish my rounds, and we’ll talk. Take this time to think it over.” With that, she turned sharply and moved to Kate’s bed.
“How are you doing?” The doctor bent over Kate. “All looks good. Second baby? Shall we bring your little one for feeding?”
“Yes, please,” Kate answered quickly.
The doctor watched her for a moment, as if wanting to say something. Then she glanced back at Wilson, who had turned to the wall again, sighed, and left the ward.
Once the door clicked shut, Kate sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
“What’s your name?” When no answer came, she tried again. “We gave birth around the same time last night. You were just before me. Look, I don’t mean to pry, but… why don’t you want to see your son?”
The young mother stayed silent.
“My boy’s five now.” Kate paused briefly before suddenly asking, “Did his father walk out on you? Was it too late for an abortion? Do you think you can’t raise him alone? People say if God gives you a child, He’ll provide. You’ll see.” She spoke to Wilson’s tense, motionless back.
“Once you leave here, your baby’ll go straight to a care home. He’ll never know the warmth or smell of his own mother—of you. Strangers will look after him. He’ll think one of them is his mum. He’ll search their faces, hoping. But they’ll come and go—they’ve got their own kids. And your boy will cry for you.”
“Then he’ll be moved to an orphanage. He’ll spend his whole life waiting and searching for you. Think you’ll forget him? Cross him out like a mistake? Time passes, and regret always comes. And if someone adopts him, another woman will hear him say ‘Mum’…”
“Why is everyone on my case? It’s none of your business! You don’t know anything about me!” Wilson’s voice was choked with tears.
“You’re right, I don’t,” Kate admitted. “But people don’t just give up their babies—not after going through labour, the pain, hearing that first cry. And honestly, it’s better he left you now. Weak men don’t love their children either. Even with a husband, some women still end up like single mums.”
“My husband and I married in our third year at uni. I took my final exams with a huge bump. Stressed, of course—our son came two weeks early. I thought I’d made him happy—men always want sons. But he never became a father. And I was a daft, clueless mum, truth be told.”
“When we brought our baby home, I hoped to see a new cot, pram, lovingly bought clothes. But his grandmother gave us her granddaughter’s old cot and hand-me-downs. The pram was borrowed, scuffed up. ‘No money for new things,’ he said.”
“It broke my heart, dressing my son in worn-out pink baby clothes like we were beggars. Later, even when he earned well, my husband only brought hand-me-downs from nephews. My parents helped, but babies grow fast—always needing something. When I complained, he’d say we couldn’t afford it. ‘Dress him fancy when you get a job.’ Like my son was only mine.”
“He never stopped reminding me I didn’t work. I ran myself ragged—feeding, bathing, cooking. If Charlie cried, I dropped everything. No time for myself. I’d put on weight—none of my jeans fit. Talking to my husband was hopeless. I’d have worked, but who’d watch Charlie? My parents were still working, nowhere near retirement.”
“Before he turned two, I put him in nursery. Felt like my heart was bleeding—a married woman, forced to do it alone. My husband only cared about money.”
“Once I started working, he took out a loan for a flash car. Still ‘no money.’ You should’ve seen the state of my work clothes—too tight, stretched. Embarrassing. My son in rags, me worse, while he drove that car.”
“The other mums at the park would brag—‘My man bought me a diamond ring,’ ‘Mine got me a fur coat.’ Me? Not even a new dress. I made excuses—‘We were students, then suddenly a baby…’”
“My parents helped. Mum once saw my shabby clothes and bought me new ones.”
“We argued constantly. Once, I found out he was cheating. ‘Look at you,’ he’d hint at my weight, my clothes. I told him exactly what I thought, took Charlie, and left. He half-heartedly tried to get me back. Days later, he moved his mistress into our rented flat. Thought the pain would kill me. It didn’t.”
“Before the divorce, he begged me not to demand child support. Promised he’d pay more unofficially. I didn’t believe him—rightly so.”
“At work, I met an older man. He drove me and Charlie to the doctor a few times. Knew he liked me, but I was scared. ‘Once bitten…’ Took two years before we married. He and Charlie got on straight away. He wanted kids—his first wife hadn’t.”
“I was pregnant months later. His joy! When my ex heard, he demanded Charlie—‘Two weeks with me, two with you.’ Threatened court. His mum called nonstop, ‘Missing Charlie.’”
“Then I was hospitalised with complications. Had to let Charlie go. He asked to stay with his gran. I called daily—he’d chatter about new toys, trips to the theatre. I relaxed, though I missed him terribly.”
“After discharge, I rang his gran to fetch him. She stalled—‘Let him stay, you rest.’ I agreed—pregnancy was rough, and he was happy there.”
“Then my ex brought him back himself—no fight needed. Said Charlie cost too much—growing out of clothes, toys expensive, his mortgage and car loan.”
“I hugged Charlie like I’d never let go. My husband was thrilled too—family whole again.”
“Charlie said he’d been at his gran’s—his dad barely visited, never bought toys. Just her.”
“So there. Married, but still a single mum. No husband’s better than a bad one. Threatening courts, trying to take my son…”
“First marriages often fail. We rush, foolish. Looking for love, when we should pick good fathers. I found mine second time. You’re young and lovely—you’ll manage.”
“I’ve loads of baby clothes—bought new once I worked. They’ll hardly be worn. Yours if you want. I’ll help however. You’ve got milk—we’ll sort the rest. Your mum’ll pitch in.”
Wilson had turned to face Kate, listening intently.
“Mum told me to leave him here,” she whispered.
“Rubbish. She’ll hold her grandson once and fall in love. Won’t even let you near him. Trust me.”
The door opened—a nurse entered with a bundle.
“Here’s your daughter. Know how to latch her?” She passed Kate the tightly wrapped baby.
Kate cradled her, overwhelmed, studying the tiny face for familiar features.
“Will you bring my son?” came from the next bed. The nurse paused, surprised.
“Wilson? Right. Be back in a tick.”
Kate smiled approvingly.
“I’m Emily. You’re Kate? Will you help me? I’m terrified—I don’t know anything,” she admitted shyly.
Soon, the nurse returned with another bundle. The baby latched hungrily. The mothers admired their newborns, chatting.
Discharged together, Emily met her mum outside, while Kate’s parents and husband waited with Charlie in the lobby. They swapped numbers and addresses.
They often met at the park, Kate sharing tipsOver time, their bond grew stronger, and Emily often joked that Kate’s advice had saved her from a lifetime of regrets, and as they watched their children play together in the sunshine, she silently thanked fate for bringing them together in that hospital room.
