I Cried When I Saw My Newborn Baby for the 1st Time Because I Couldn’t Take Him Home – Touching Story

After a string of miscarriages, Lyric experiences her first labor and cries when she sees her newborn baby boy for the first time. She gently scoops him up and plants her last kiss because she knows she will not see him again.

I was feeling unusually emotional that night. My husband, Woody, was watching me sleep when I suddenly opened my eyes to his breath brushing against my face.

“Hey, get some sleep,” I told him, and he gently ruffled my hair, telling me how beautiful I looked while sleeping.

“I love your pregnancy glow, Lyric,” he whispered.

I blushed. I teared up. I wanted to hug him tight, but a wall of pillows between us kept me from bumping onto him. It was Woody’s idea because he wanted to protect our baby — at least this baby — because it was our sixth pregnancy after a string of five miscarriages in our seven years of marriage.

Woody loved children and wanted to have as many babies as God wanted to give us. He was ready to go to any extent, perhaps even bring down the skies, to become a father. I was carrying his child, but he was carrying both of us, mom and baby, in his heart. Woody was just… excited beyond words!

Only if I knew all that joy would come to a heartbreaking standstill the next morning…

“Woody, honey… Jesus…” I cried.

My husband came running, and I screamed at him not to enter the bathroom.

“Please, honey, don’t come inside.”

“Lyric, darling, what is it?” he shouted.

But I shut myself inside and wildly cried. I wanted to shut myself away from everything— from my husband, in-laws, neighbors, friends, and everyone I knew was waiting for my child to come into the world. I had a miscarriage. My baby, my tiny life I wanted to protect and bring into this world, died even before he was born.

Was I cursed? Will I never become a mother? I cried on Woody’s lap that morning. He scooped me up, and we rushed to the doctor. Not one or two—we visited around five doctors over the next few weeks after my discharge, and what everyone told me sounded like a funeral hymn to me.

“Mrs. Jackson, these are certain underlying complications involved in your pregnancy,” they said.

It took me a long time to process the several risk factors involved in my pregnancy. I could not bear a baby and give birth normally. Some even told me straight in my face that childbirth would be very risky if I still successfully conceived and carried my pregnancy to term. But I was ready to climb any mountain to have a baby.

I could not pull myself together to hold my newborn baby longer than five minutes. My heart did not let me do it.

Was this a choice fate had given us? Woody and I were even advised to opt for adoption or surrogacy. I knew and had read stories of several women blessed with children this way.

But I wanted to feel my pregnancy. I was absolutely normal, except for the fact that something was really going on inside me. My child wouldn’t stay longer than four months. My miscarriages were like a never-ending wave that kept coming to me to wash away my happiness. Then one day, my husband encouraged me and said:

“Lyric, darling, it’s okay. We will keep trying. We will not give up, alright??”

That was enough, Woody. I needed your support at my weakest moment, and your love strengthened me. I felt like a stomped seedling sprouting and bursting through a tiny crevice in the earth.

Woody and I returned home, confident of visiting the hospital with another successful pregnancy checkup. Months passed, and we kept trying. Our hopes were high, and we wanted to become parents.

This time we will be successful, I assured myself. If I only knew fate had devised another dark plan for me.

A year passed, and Woody was excited every time I ran to the medical store. He thought I was getting a pregnancy test kit. He would follow me to the bathroom and wait outside whenever I rose early. He would cross his fingers and eagerly wait to hear some good news.

But I would come out empty-handed each time and tell him: “What? Why are you up so early? Is everything alright, hun?” I could tell by Woody’s expressionless face he was disheartened. But I cannot fake a pregnancy test, can I?

We gave ourselves more time before planning our baby again. Woody took me on a surprise second honeymoon. “It’s a perfect idea to reconnect, darling,” he said. “We need a break to try new things and enjoy our private time!”

And so, we flew to Maldives and returned home two weeks later with more than just beautiful memories of our trip. I was sick and nauseous, and Woody mistook it for the good news he was anticipating.

“Hun, it’s not what you think. I must be having a bad tummy coz of the seafood,” I told him. But when Woody was adamant that I was pregnant, I took a pregnancy test one morning and proved to him I was not.

“Darling, I know it’s disappointing every time we try, and it doesn’t happen. We will keep trying, alright? Let’s not lose hope too soon. Let’s stay calm,” I comforted him.

I knew Woody was frustrated. He gently pushed me away and said he was late for the office.

I thought he would calm down. But I forgot: it is always calm before a storm.

Later that morning, just as I dropped him at his office, I found his phone on the seat. Woody had forgotten to take it. I picked it up and followed him when it suddenly rang.

“SUGAR??” Who is ‘Sugar?’ I exclaimed at seeing the caller’s name. Before I could fathom anything, Woody came running and grabbed his phone.

“Did you answer?” he asked me. Woody sounded stern and anxious.

“No… But who is SUGAR??” I asked him.

Woody refused to answer me and returned to his office. I stood stranded and confused.

“Is my husband seeing someone else?” my conscious haunted me, but who knew I would find more heartbreaking answers very soon?

As days passed, Woody started distancing himself from me. He started coming home late, his dress smelled of a woman’s perfume that I didn’t use, and he never allowed me to use his phone, let alone touch it. Those red flags were evident enough that he was cheating on me.

One fine day, I thought I had seen enough and confronted him.

“Woody, are you seeing someone else?” I politely asked.

My heart pounded in my chest, waiting for a ‘no’ or at least his signature ‘you silly gal’ he often said whenever he would be cross with me. But I had never expected what he would tell me next.

“Look, Lyric, honey… I love you, and you know that. But I want children, and everyone thinks I have some problem. I cannot explain to people that you are the reason we do not have kids.”

I was distraught. I only wished my husband would not have said that.

“It’s been eight freaking years, and we don’t have children. I don’t think this is gonna work out, hun. It’s time to decide…”

“Decide what??”

His phone rang, and it was from ‘SUGAR.’ Without hiding it anymore, Woody answered the call right in front of me.

“Darling, I’ll pick you up at eight in the morning. Be ready, alright?”

Woody did cheat on me. It felt like a giant rock had rolled over me. It was so painful, and I could not bring myself to stand on my feet. Before I could snap to reality, he blew me up with another shock.

Woody then sat me down and showed me photos of Reese, his mistress. A picture of Woody kissing her belly as she flaunted a positive pregnancy test shattered my heart to a million pieces. Reese was pregnant with his child. And I had no idea how long this was going on behind my back.

I saw no prospect of a happy marriage with Woody anymore. I could no longer live under the same roof and see my life getting divided with another woman. She took my place in my husband’s heart and is pregnant with his baby.

What more could Woody ask for than becoming a father? He got what he wanted, and though he still loved me in a cranny of his heart, I didn’t want that. I didn’t want just a tiny spot in a CRANNY OF MY HUSBAND’S HEART.

In a wink, my beloved husband I shared my life with, seemed like a stranger.

So a few weeks later, we parted ways and planned on filing for a divorce. While Woody and his mistress led a happy new life together, awaiting the birth of their child, I walked out to the streets with no money nor a job.

I lived with my mother, Doris, and her love and support replenished my life. Two weeks later, I started feeling sick again. I didn’t eat out and am a good cook, so I don’t remember having anything that would mess with my stomach.

When my morning sickness wouldn’t stop, and I started feeling hungry at random hours, I decided to take one last pregnancy test to find out the truth. I remembered Woody and I were trying to have a baby until I found out he was cheating.

With a faint heart and a sliver of hope, I rushed to the pharmacy and brought a pregnancy test kit. I waited until the following morning to take the test. If I only knew what it would reveal.

The following morning as soon as I rose from bed…

“Mom… Mom! Oh my God! Mom…” I could not stop crying.

“What is it, darling?” my mother came running and froze after seeing my positive test.

My mom hugged me and took me out of the bathroom. “You should immediately tell Woody. He has to know, darling. Please don’t delay. He will be delighted to hear this. This is what he wanted.”

My mother begged and cried, but my heart would not listen. I did not want Woody to come running to me just because I was pregnant with his child. I felt my pregnancy was not a reason to win his heart or bring him back.

My baby is not a magnet I’d want to use to attract his father to me.

“Lyric, stop acting like a jerk,” my mom fumed. “He’s the baby’s father, and he has the right to know about his child.”

I refused and shut myself away until my mother stopped nagging me. I even threatened her that I would leave without a trace if she tried contacting Woody to reveal my pregnancy to him. I had no choice but to corner my mother. And she had no choice but to agree because she did not want to lose my child and me all at once.

I prepared for a safe pregnancy and the arrival of my baby. Deep inside, I feared what the doctors had told me earlier. Will those risks affect my child? I feared. Will my baby come into this world safe and sound?

Months passed, and I was more than delighted when I successfully reached my third trimester—seeing my bulging baby bump and feeling little kicks elated me. Sometimes, I cried in silence, thinking about how I would raise him alone. I pulled myself together and waited for my baby to arrive first.

While all was well, my pregnancy entered the phase that was hardest for me. I could not cope with it after my mother suddenly died of a heart attack. My doctor had already advised me to avoid thoughts and circumstances that could trigger any risk that could threaten my unborn child’s and my well-being.

But how could I turn away from the bitter truth of my mom’s passing? A week after the funeral, I started experiencing mild discomfort. My due date was arriving in two weeks, but I was not ready to take any risk

I called 911 and was immediately rushed to the hospital. My baby boy was born hale and hearty through a C-section.

I could not stop crying when I woke up to the loud cries of my newborn baby boy near me. I let my tears endlessly flow when I saw baby Charlie for the first time.

His skin felt as soft as silk when I held him. But I could not pull myself together to hold my newborn baby longer than five minutes. My heart did not let me do it.

What if he gets attached to me? What if he refuses to let me go? What if he opens his eyes and arrests me in his memories for the rest of his life? I thought before making a painful, difficult choice.

I cried for the first time when I saw my newborn baby because I knew I couldn’t take him home.

I had already planned to give him up for adoption. I wanted my little one to live a beautiful life away from me. I did not have the means or money to raise him alone. Placing him for adoption was my only hope, and my heart ripped apart to make this difficult choice.

I sobbed as I scooped baby Charlie and kissed him on his forehead.

This would be my first and last kiss, sweetie, I tearfully whispered.

I cried, putting him back in the crib when one of the nurses who attended my delivery saw me sob bitterly. I could not hold myself back and told her everything about me.

“I understand your pain, but your ex-husband deserves to know the truth about your baby,” she advised me. But my pride and sentiments would not allow me to do it. I don’t want to use my baby to build bridges with my ex-husband.

Besides hurting my feelings, Woody had betrayed me. He had walked out on me because I couldn’t give him a child. If he learns he is now a dad, will it change the rift in our relationship? Will it fix the wounds he inflicted on my heart? Will it divide Woody’s love for baby Charlie and the other baby born to him and his mistress?

Please tell me what I should do now. Should I keep my ego aside and contact my ex-husband? Should I confess to him about our baby? Will it make any difference to him, especially since his mistress is also the mother of his child?