‘Sorry Mom, I Couldn’t Leave Them,’ My 16-Year-Old Son Said When He Brought Newborn Twins Home

“Saw who?”

“Dad.”

The air left my lungs.

“They are Dad’s babies, Mom.”

I froze, unable to process these five words.

“Dad was storming out of one of the maternity wards,” Josh continued. “He looked angry. I didn’t approach him, but I was curious, so I asked around. You know Mrs. Chen, your friend who works in labor and delivery?”

I nodded numbly.

“She told me that Sylvia, Dad’s girlfriend, went into labor last night. She had twins.” Josh’s jaw tightened. “And Dad just left. He told the nurses he wanted nothing to do with them.”

I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. “No. That can’t be right.”

“It’s true, Mom. I went to see her. Sylvia was alone in that hospital room with two newborn babies, crying so hard she could barely breathe. She’s really sick. Something went wrong during the delivery. The doctors were talking about complications, infections. She could barely hold the babies.”

“Josh, this isn’t our problem…”

“They’re my siblings!” His voice cracked. “They’re my brother and sister, and they have nobody. I told Sylvia I’d bring them home just for a little while, just to show you, and maybe we could help. I couldn’t just leave them there.”

I sank down onto the edge of his bed. “How did they even let you take them? You’re 16 years old.”

“Sylvia signed a temporary release form. She knows who I am. I showed them my ID, proving I was related. Mrs. Chen vouched for me. They said it was irregular, but given the circumstances, Sylvia just kept crying and saying she didn’t know what else to do.”

I looked at the babies in his arms. They were so small and fragile.

“You can’t do this. This isn’t your responsibility,” I whispered, tears burning in my eyes.

“Then whose is it?” Josh shot back. “Dad’s? He already proved he doesn’t care. What if Sylvia doesn’t make it, Mom? What happens to these babies then?”

“We take them back to the hospital right now. This is too much.”

“Mom, please…”

“No.” My voice was firmer now. “Get your shoes on. We’re going back.”

The drive to Mercy General was suffocating. Josh sat in the back seat with the twins, one on each side of him in the baskets we’d hastily grabbed from the garage.