“We can’t afford a new child,” my son Jace complained when I told him.
“We’ll make do. Babies are blessings, and this is your sibling. Otherwise, you can move out and start fending for yourself,” I replied.
I was heartbroken by his words; I knew he was right. I was much worse off than I had been when Jace was born 22 years ago. I felt I would never get out of this hole.
It only got worse. I was hospitalized at the five-month mark when I went into labor. My second son was born and placed in an incubator. He was too premature, and the doctors were scared. Looking at my baby in the children’s ward, I felt hopeful. I thought if my son was still alive, he would make it.
I was in the hospital with my baby boy for 398 days. Finally, we were discharged. Although my child needed a bunch of meds—possibly for life—he was so worth all the pain of over a year.
I walked out of the hospital with my child and went to our trailer, which was not that far from the hospital. I couldn’t reach Jace for some reason.
When I came home, some strangers opened the door.
“Excuse me. This is my house,” I said, confused.
“No, we bought this trailer,” he answered. “I paid this Jace guy in cash.”
“But…But that’s impossible… I’m the owner…”
Is this true?! That’s why I couldn’t reach him! Had Jace sold our home while I was in the hospital with the baby and run away with the money?!
Tears choked me. Suddenly, I heard footsteps behind me—it was
Ever imagined that I wouldn’t be able to give my children a better life. When I got pregnant with Jace, I thought living in my late mother’s old trailer was just temporary. The pregnancy was unexpected, but I believed I could work hard, save up, and move us into a better home—maybe even a small apartment. But life didn’t go as planned.
