I stared at a negative pregnancy test, telling my husband, Tom, “Seven years is too long to hope.” He held me, “Clara, you’ll be an amazing mom. We’ve got paths left.” Tom’s faith carried us through four IVFs and three losses. At 37, I was tired of treatments and his cousin’s “healing” oils. “Let’s take a break,” he said. “Just live.” I sank into him, wanting his trust that our life was enough. Tom was my rock—gifting me weekend pancakes, celebrating every moment, and surviving my coworker’s dry potlucks.
“Mother’s Day’s near,” he smiled. “I’ll make it special.” I sighed, “It’s too painful, seeing kids.” He nodded, “Your choice.” When he left that morning for a “surprise,” I expected donuts or daisies. Instead, he brought a baby—a tiny girl in a pink blanket, with dark eyes. “She’s for you,” he said. “To be a mom.” I gasped, “Tom, whose baby?” He evaded, “Her name’s Ava. She needs us.” Ava was perfect, and I held her, heart racing, but unease grew.
That night, I called my sister, Leah, while Tom fed Ava. “He just brought a baby?” she asked, shocked. “Where’s the adoption record?” I said, “He won’t tell, just to trust him.” Leah, a counselor, said, “She needs a checkup. This isn’t right.” I pressed Tom, “Where’s she from?” He shut down, “I’ll deal with it.” I lay awake, Ava’s warmth pulling me, but fear lingered. Days later, with Tom out, a call came. “I’m Ava’s mom, Mia, 20,” a voice said. “Is she safe?” My heart broke.
“Tom said you couldn’t have kids,” Mia said. “He gave me his hidden cottage for Ava.” It was my grandpa’s cottage, inherited for a future daycare. Mia wasn’t ready to parent, and Tom promised I’d adore Ava. “I do,” I cried. Tom had cheated, used my property, and brought a baby with no legal claim. When he got home, I held Ava, saying, “You betrayed me.” He admitted, “I did it for you. She didn’t want the baby.” I said, “You ruined us.” My lawyer confirmed Tom’s actions were wrong. I called Mia, offering a legal adoption—me alone. She agreed. I divorced Tom, kept the cottage, and he paid all fees. He texts, saying he gave me Ava, but she and I chose each other—that’s true motherhood. Share this tale—it might encourage someone to find courage in truth.
