I found out my son had left a pregnant woman. I paid for her solicitor.
Discovering what my son had done felt like being hit over the head with a teapot full of disappointment. Not because of shamefor goodness’ sake, I got over being embarrassed by my children after the third disastrous parents eveningbut because of that poor girl. Id seen her once, whizzing around on a delivery scooter under the relentless British drizzle, eyes full of exhaustion, belly undeniably round. It was then I decided someone sensible had to step in.
On a Tuesday afternoon, I knocked at her door. She answered in her work gear, her bump now rather determined in its presence, and her face so tired it could bring a tear to an accountants eye.
Yes? she asked, a hint of caution in her voice.
Im the mother of that irresponsible young man who left you in the lurch, I said, not bothering with pleasantries. Ive come to fix things.
Her eyes filled up instantly, like someone had switched on a hose.
Maam, I really dont want any trouble
I havent come with trouble, love. Ive brought solutions. Do you know the best family solicitor in town? Well, youve got an appointment tomorrowpaid in full, I might add.
She was utterly gobsmacked, which frankly, was the first time anyone in this situation didnt slam the door in my face. I carried on:
That lad may have come from my womb, but clearly didnt take my upbringing with him. Hell be paying for this child, even if it means working three shifts at a dreary office job.
And so it went. The solicitor earned every penny of my hard-earned pounds. When my granddaughter was finally bornyes, granddaughter, whether my son liked it or notI showed up at the hospital armed with nappies, baby grows, and a flatpack cot rattling around in the boot.
Honestly, maam, you dont have to
Its necessary, I interrupted firmly. I am the grandmother, after all.
Naturally, my son stopped speaking to me. Accused me of betrayal, interfering, ruining his lifethe usual soundtrack of ungrateful offspring everywhere. My reply? The lives you ruined arent mine, dear. Im just mending the cracks.
Two years on, the young woman and my granddaughter live with me. She studies to become a nurse in the evenings. I do the baby wrangling. Were perhaps the oddest but certainly the closest family on our street. My son still isnt on speaking terms, but, thanks to our ironclad solicitor, he pays his maintenance reliably every month.
Yesterday, as I was bottle-feeding the baby, she hugged me from behind.
Thank you, Mum, she whispered.
Mum.
And I wondered: is there any greater gift than gaining a daughter and a granddaughter, even if it means temporarily losing a son? Sometimes, family isnt just the people youre born to. Its the people you choose to fight for.
A story of responsibility, conscience, and love in the most unexpected places.
