Chapter 4: The Woman Who Was Expecting My Son

I went into our bedroom and called Ruth.

She picked up after the third ring.

“Lauren! How are those beautiful babies doing?”

“Fine. Ruth, I need to ask you something.”

“Of course.”

“What exactly did Grant tell you about Eli?”

She hesitated briefly.

“About him staying with me?”

“Yes.”

“He said you both thought it would be good for him. With everything going on.”

“Did he say I agreed?”

“Yes.”

I slowly closed my eyes.

“Ruth, I didn’t even know about this until this morning.”

The line became quiet.

Then she responded softly, “Oh, honey.”

I lowered myself onto the edge of our bed.

“How long were you expecting him to stay?”

“Well, Grant said we should plan for at least the school year.”

My grip tightened around the phone.

“The school year?”

“He said moving Eli back and forth might confuse him. I thought it sounded like a lot, but he told me you were both comfortable with it.”

For a moment, I couldn’t respond.

Ruth continued explaining.

“I asked whether Eli was okay with the arrangement. Grant said he’d talked to him.”

“Did Grant say Eli wanted to go?”

“Yes. He said Eli was excited about having his own room here.”

I almost let out a disbelieving laugh.

Eli had recently been sleeping with his baseball glove tucked beneath his pillow.

He’d even asked whether he could bring our family Christmas photograph.

And that very morning, he’d offered every dollar he possessed just to remain at home.

“Ruth, he’s not excited.”

“I’m beginning to understand that.”

“He thinks we’re sending him away because he’s adopted.”

Ruth reacted with a quiet gasp.

“Who told him that?”

“He overheard Grant and Marilyn. And apparently my husband told him I agreed.”

“Oh, Lauren.”

I gently pressed my fingertips against my forehead.

“I know you were trying to help.”

“I thought I was giving him somewhere nice to spend some time. If I’d known you hadn’t agreed, I wouldn’t have made a single plan.”

“I believe you.”

“Tell Eli he’s welcome to visit me anytime. But I’m not taking that boy out of his home when his mother doesn’t want him to leave.”

For the first time that morning, I felt that another adult truly understood my concerns.

“Thank you.”

“And Lauren?”

“Yes?”

“Make sure he knows I didn’t ask for him because nobody else wanted him.”

After ending the call, I remained seated for another minute.

Then I opened our bedroom door.

Grant stood waiting in the hallway.

“Did you call Ruth?”

“Yes.”

His gaze dropped toward the floor.

“Lauren—”

“A whole school year?”

He remained silent, confirming what I’d already learned.

“Not a month. Not a summer. A whole school year.”

“We hadn’t finalized anything.”

“But you’d told Ruth. You’d contacted a school. You’d packed his things.”

“I was planning ahead.”

“For a life without Eli in this house.”

He shook his head slowly.

“That’s not fair.”

“Fair?”

My voice wavered with emotion.

“You told our son I agreed to send him away.”

Grant glanced toward the staircase.

“Keep your voice down.”

“Then answer me quietly. Why did you lie to him?”

He drew in a long breath.

“Because I knew you’d say no.”

I stared at him silently.

He seemed surprised by his own admission.

“Lauren, I just meant—”

“You knew I’d say no, so you decided to make the choice without me.”

“I thought if we had everything arranged, you’d see that it could work.”

“That isn’t a marriage, Grant. That’s you making a decision and waiting for me to accept it.”

He ran a hand through his hair.

“Do you think I want this?”

“I don’t know what you want anymore.”

“I want you to get better. I want the babies taken care of. I want to stop wondering whether the mortgage is going to clear.”

“And Eli?”

“Of course I want him taken care of.”

“Just somewhere else.”

He had nothing to say.

Marilyn appeared near the bottom of the staircase.

“Have you talked some sense into her?”

I looked beyond Grant toward her.

“Ruth knows I never agreed. Eli isn’t going anywhere Saturday.”

Marilyn stopped walking.

“Well, I suppose that settles it.”

“Yes. It does.”

“Then I won’t be moving in.”

Grant immediately turned toward her.

“Mom.”

“No. I’ve offered to give up my time, my privacy, and my own home to help you two. I’m not spending months sleeping on a couch while taking care of newborn twins and another child.”

“Eli doesn’t need you to take care of him,” I said.

“Someone has to feed him, drive him to school, and deal with everything else. He’s nine.”

“Yes. He’s nine. That’s exactly why he needs his parents.”

Marilyn’s expression grew noticeably firmer.

“Lauren, you have two babies of your own now. You need to think about them.”

I studied her face for several seconds.

“I have three children.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

For once, Marilyn couldn’t find a response.

Grant lowered himself onto the bottom stair.

“Then tell me what we’re supposed to do,” he said. “Your leave ends soon. We can’t afford full-time care for two infants. Mom was our plan.”

“Then we need another plan.”

“With what money?”

“I don’t know yet.”

He gave a brief, humorless laugh.

“That’s the problem, Lauren. You don’t know.”

And I couldn’t entirely dismiss his point.

The hospital expenses were genuine.

My unpaid maternity leave was also real.

Our childcare difficulties weren’t imaginary.

And my recovery from surgery was still ongoing.

But upstairs, my nine-year-old son was waiting to learn whether he could continue sleeping in his own bedroom the following week.

I couldn’t let another financial calculation determine his sense of belonging.

Later that afternoon, I went upstairs and discovered Eli sitting on his bed, carefully slipping his baseball cards into a sandwich bag.

“Mom?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Is Aunt Ruth still coming Saturday?”

“No.”

His hands immediately became still.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He lowered his eyes toward the cards.

“Is Dad mad?”

I settled onto the bed beside him.

“Your dad and I are having a disagreement. It isn’t your job to fix it.”

Eli gave a small nod.

But he continued holding the cards instead of putting them away.

That evening, while I was tucking him into bed, he asked whether he could leave his backpack beside him.

I told him he could.

I didn’t simply tell him there was nothing to worry about.

Not after the adults he depended on had given him so many reasons to feel uncertain.

Instead, I remained beside him until he finally fell asleep.

Then I returned downstairs, opened our bank account, and began reviewing every number for myself.

Because I had prevented a plan that would have sent my son away.

Now I needed to figure out how to keep everything else in our family from unraveling.

Chapter 5: The True Cost Of Raising Three Children

By midnight, my legal pad was filled with calculations.

Grant had already gone upstairs.

Marilyn had returned home after declaring that she would no longer be helping us.

I remained at the kitchen table with a calculator, two hospital statements, and a cup of coffee I’d already reheated three times.

Our savings amounted to $2,180.

We still owed the hospital $4,760.

Our credit card balances were higher than I wanted to acknowledge.

And my next paycheck wouldn’t arrive for several more weeks.

Grant had lost his overtime hours in May. His regular schedule no longer brought in enough money to maintain the expenses we’d previously managed without much concern.

I already understood that we needed to reduce our spending.

But I hadn’t realized how little financial flexibility we actually had left.

For the first time that day, I began to understand Grant’s anxiety.

What I couldn’t understand was why he’d decided Eli should be the solution.

The following morning, I contacted the hospital’s billing department.

They couldn’t simply cancel our balance, but they offered to help me request financial assistance and establish a payment arrangement while the application was being considered.

Next, I contacted my manager.

My position involved handling insurance claims for a medical office. Certain responsibilities could be completed remotely.

She explained that returning part-time might be possible, with a few afternoons of remote work each week until I could resume my usual schedule.

My income would be lower than normal.

But it would still help.

Afterward, I contacted three childcare facilities.

Even the most affordable estimate for both twins exceeded what our budget could reasonably support.

One facility wouldn’t have available spaces until January.

Another required an upfront deposit merely to join its waiting list.

By lunchtime, I was so frustrated that I wanted to put my phone away and forget about everything.

My friend Nina called while I was sitting on the living room floor organizing baby clothes.

“You sound terrible,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“I’m serious. What’s wrong?”

I initially gave her a brief explanation.

Then I shared everything else.

Nina became quiet when I described the birthday money Eli had offered.

Eventually, she asked, “What do you need this week?”

I glanced toward the overflowing laundry basket.

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“Then I’ll come over tomorrow and we’ll figure out what needs doing.”

“Nina, you work.”

“I know. I have Thursday afternoon free. I’m not offering to raise your children. I’m offering to fold laundry and hold a baby while you shower.”

For the first time in two days, I laughed.

“That actually sounds amazing.”

Once our conversation ended, I wrote Nina’s name on my legal pad.

Not because she could solve everything.

But because her offer represented one small source of support.

That evening, Grant discovered me sitting at the kitchen table.

“Still doing the budget?”

“Yes.”

He glanced over my handwritten notes.

“You called the hospital?”

“And my manager. And a few childcare centers.”

He examined the page more closely.

“Working part-time won’t cover what we need.”

“Not by itself.”

“Then what’s the plan?”

“We adjust our schedules. You could handle the twins after your morning shift while I work from home. We’d only need help during the overlap.”

“My hours change every week.”

“Then we plan around them.”

He slowly shook his head.

“What happens when they ask me to stay late?”

“We find backup care.”

“With what money?”

I set my pen aside.

“Grant, every solution you reject is difficult. But the one you proposed required our son to leave his home.”

He turned his gaze away.

“Ruth’s place isn’t some terrible place.”

“I know it isn’t. But she’s not his parent.”

“We wouldn’t stop being his parents.”

“Then why did you tell him I wanted him gone?”

He remained silent.

I waited for an explanation.

Finally, he admitted, “I shouldn’t have done that.”

It was the first time he’d acknowledged his mistake without immediately defending himself.

But then he continued, “I still don’t think keeping all three kids here is realistic.”

I studied his expression.

“You keep talking about three kids like one of them is optional.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then stop making him the only one who has to give something up.”

Grant picked up the legal pad and reviewed the figures once more.

“We could lose the house if this gets worse.”

His words affected me more deeply than I’d anticipated.

I’d been concentrating on reduced income and childcare expenses.

Grant was already worrying about the possibility of losing our home.

“We’re not there yet,” I said.

“Not yet.”

He slid the legal pad back toward me.

“I hope you have a better answer by next month.”

Neither of us realized Eli was standing near the hallway until he quietly turned away.

I caught a brief glimpse of his shirt as he disappeared upstairs.

“Eli?”

He didn’t respond.

I was about to follow him when Ben began crying.

By the time I’d changed Ben and passed him to Grant, Eli’s bedroom door was shut.

I knocked gently.

“Buddy?”

“Just a minute.”

I heard something sliding across the floor.

When Eli finally opened the door, his blue rolling suitcase stood beside his bed.

He had already packed it.

His baseball glove rested on top.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Eli glanced toward the suitcase.

“I think I should go tomorrow instead.”

“Why?”

He shifted uncomfortably.

“I heard Dad say we might lose the house.”

“We are not losing the house tomorrow, Eli.”

“But if I go to Aunt Ruth’s, you won’t have to buy me stuff.”

I stepped into his room.

“That’s not how it works.”

He lowered his gaze.

“I already called her.”

For a moment, I felt completely still.

“You called Ruth?”

He nodded quietly.

“I asked if I could come early.”

“What did she say?”

“She told me to talk to you.”

I carefully sat on his bed.

“Eli, you don’t have to leave.”

He looked toward his suitcase before turning back to me.

“But Mom, I don’t want the babies to lose their house because of me.”

Chapter 6: I Only Wanted You To Feel Better

I gently moved the suitcase away from the doorway.

Then I lowered myself onto the floor beside it.

Eli sat opposite me, holding his knees close against his chest.

“I need you to understand something,” I said. “We have bills to pay. That’s true. But those bills are not your fault.”

He nervously picked at a loose thread on his jeans.

“Dad said kids cost money.”

“They do.”

“So wouldn’t two be cheaper than three?”

It saddened me to hear him approaching the situation like a financial calculation.

“Yes,” I said. “But having children isn’t a shopping trip where you put something back because the total is too high.”

His eyebrows drew together.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

I nearly smiled at his response.

“You’re right. That was a bad explanation.”

He raised his eyes toward me.

So I decided to explain it differently.

“Remember when you broke your glasses at school?”

“Yeah.”

“And we had to buy new ones?”

He nodded.

“Did we tell you that you couldn’t live here anymore because glasses were expensive?”

“No.”

“Would we tell Ben or Nora that?”

“No.”

“Then we don’t get to say it about you.”

He considered my explanation.

“But they’re your real babies.”

I drew a slow breath.

“You’re all my real children. I gave birth to them. Your dad and I adopted you. Those things are different, but neither makes you less our son.”

“Grandma said blood is different.”

“Blood is different. That doesn’t mean love or responsibility disappears.”

He pulled his sleeves down over his hands.

“I wish you’d told me before.”

“I wish I had, too.”

“I thought maybe something was wrong with me.”

I moved a little closer to him.

“Nothing is wrong with you because you’re adopted. We were wrong not to explain it.”

He nodded, although I could see he was still trying to understand everything he’d recently discovered.

After a little while, he asked, “Did you like me when I was a baby?”

I smiled warmly.

“I loved you.”

“Even when I cried?”

“You cried a lot.”

His eyes widened with surprise.

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. You hated your car seat, and you used to throw your bottle when you were finished.”

He let out a quiet laugh.

“Dad said I was a good baby.”

“Your dad has a selective memory.”

For a brief moment, Eli smiled.

Then he glanced toward the hallway, where Nora had begun making restless sounds.

“I don’t always like twins,” he admitted.

I turned my attention back to him.

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes they’re loud. And everybody says I have to be a good big brother.”

“You don’t have to like every minute of having babies around.”

“Yesterday, I got mad because Ben woke me up.”

“That’s okay.”

“I didn’t say anything mean to him.”

“I know.”

“But I thought it.”

I rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Eli, being frustrated doesn’t make you a bad brother.”

His expression softened with relief.

Then he added, “I still want to help you.”

“I know you do.”

“I can get the diapers.”

“Sometimes.”

“And fold the little towels.”

“If you want to.”

“And I could make you breakfast.”

I gently shook my head.

“Buddy, you’re nine. You can help around the house like any kid, but you’re not responsible for taking care of me or your brother and sister.”

He became quiet again.

I suddenly remembered the very first request he’d made in our kitchen.

One more month.

Not the entire summer.

Not until his next birthday.

Only one additional month.

“Eli, can I ask you something?”

He nodded.

“Why did you ask for one more month?”

He looked at me with a puzzled expression.

“Because the doctor said you’d be better soon.”

“What?”

“When we went to your appointment, you asked when your stomach would stop hurting. The doctor said it could take six weeks or more.”

I remembered that appointment clearly.

Eli had been sitting quietly in the examination room’s corner, playing a game on Grant’s phone.

I’d assumed he wasn’t paying attention to our conversation.

“I figured another month would be enough,” he said.

“Enough for what?”

“For you to be better.”

Emotion tightened my chest.

But Eli continued explaining.

“Sometimes you make that face when you stand up.”

“What face?”

He demonstrated by pressing his lips together and narrowing his eyes.

Despite everything happening around us, I nearly laughed.

“That face,” he said. “You did it yesterday when you got off the couch.”

“I remember.”

“And sometimes both babies cry, and you look like you don’t know what to do first.”

I swallowed before answering.

“So I thought if I stayed, I could help until you weren’t hurting anymore.”

“Eli—”

“Then I could go to Aunt Ruth’s.”

He said those words with such innocent certainty.

As though he’d been preparing for a perfectly normal visit.

As though moving away from his own home was simply another responsibility he needed to complete.

“I didn’t want to go while you still needed help, Mom.”

I reached toward him, but he continued speaking.

“And I thought if I waited until Ben and Nora were bigger, you wouldn’t be so tired.”

He lowered his gaze toward his hands.

“Then you wouldn’t need me as much.”

For a moment, I couldn’t find my voice.

For several days, I’d believed Eli was desperately trying to prove himself helpful so we’d allow him to remain with us.

But in his mind, the decision had already been made.

He simply wanted enough time to make certain I would be okay after he left.

I gently gathered him into my arms.

He immediately began crying.

There was no anger or loud sobbing.

It was the same quiet crying I remembered from when he was younger and tried not to wake us after a frightening dream.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

I held him a little closer.

“For what?”

“For making everything harder.”

“You haven’t made anything harder.”

“Dad said you’re tired all the time.”

“I am tired. That’s what happens when you have newborn twins.”

“And I keep needing things.”

“You’re supposed to need things.”

He shook his head while resting against my shoulder.

“No, I’m supposed to be the big brother.”

His tears continued.

I stayed beside him until his breathing gradually became steady again.

Then I reached toward his suitcase.

“Can we unpack this?”

He wiped the tears from his cheeks.

“Do I have to?”

“No. But I don’t want you keeping it packed because you think someone is coming to take you away.”

He paused to consider my words.

“Can I keep the bag in my closet?”

“Of course.”

“Just in case?”

His question left me deeply saddened.

I wanted to reassure him that he’d never have another reason to feel uncertain about his home.

But I knew I couldn’t simply undo everything he’d overheard.

So instead, I told him, “We’ll take this one day at a time. And I’m going to keep showing you that this is your home.”

He gave a small nod.

Together, we returned his clothes to their drawers.

He carefully placed his baseball glove back on its shelf.

Two stuffed animals he’d purchased for the twins were still resting on his bed.

“Are these for Ben and Nora?” I asked.

“Yeah. I forgot to give them to you.”

“They’ll love them when they’re older.”

He lifted the small brown teddy bear.

“Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“If you had the twins first, would you still have adopted me?”

I settled beside him.

“I can’t tell you what the past would have looked like if things had happened differently. But I can tell you this: having Ben and Nora hasn’t changed the fact that I’m your mother.”

He searched my expression carefully.

“Even if I don’t help with them?”

“Even then.”

“Even if I get mad?”

“Even then.”

He slowly turned the teddy bear between his hands.

Then he asked a question I knew I would carry with me forever.

“Mom, if I’m really your son, why do the babies get to stay without asking?”

I looked at the little boy beside me.

And suddenly, I understood that another reassuring promise wouldn’t be enough.

He needed the adults around him to demonstrate that their promises could be trusted.