The words still haunted him.
“Despite our best efforts, we couldn’t save your wife. She’s gone, sir.”
Those were the words David had heard on the day his baby was born, and they had replayed in his mind every single day since. His daughter came into the world, healthy and beautiful, but his wife, Joan, never made it out of the hospital alive.
David couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t even look at his baby. Every time he thought about holding her, guilt and sorrow crushed him. His mother stepped in, taking care of the baby while he sank deeper into his grief.
He did only the bare minimum—feeding the baby when forced, walking through the days like a ghost. But his mother eventually lost patience.
“David, this has to stop. You need help. You’re going to a therapist, and that’s final,” she told him firmly.
Reluctantly, David agreed. He sat through the sessions, slowly peeling back the layers of pain, talking about Joan, talking about the baby he couldn’t bring himself to love. Weeks turned into months, and slowly, he began to feel a flicker of light. The words of the doctor still rang in his ears, but now, they didn’t destroy him like before.
His mother was proud. She saw her son trying. But even so, David still couldn’t bring himself to hold his daughter. Sometimes, he even thought, Maybe I should just give her up. Someone else would be a better parent. But he always shook that thought away. Deep down, he knew he couldn’t.
One day, after three long months, David finally decided to face something he had avoided since the funeral—Joan’s things. Her hospital bag had been sitting untouched in the corner of the room, exactly where he had dropped it the day he came home with the baby. Today, for the first time, he was brave enough to open it.
Inside, folded neatly, were Joan’s clothes. And at the bottom, her cellphone. The battery had died during labor and hadn’t been charged since. With trembling hands, David plugged it into the wall. While it charged, he busied himself sorting through Joan’s belongings, placing some in boxes for charity.
An hour later, he picked up the phone again. Notifications flooded the screen—missed calls, unread messages. Most were from friends, congratulating Joan before the devastating news reached them. But one conversation, from her closest friend Melissa, continued even after Joan’s death.
As David scrolled, his lips trembled at Melissa’s words.
It’s a pity you sacrificed your life…
His stomach dropped. Sacrificed? What did she mean? Joan’s death had been sudden—an unexpected complication, that’s what the doctors said. But something in that message hinted at more. David’s heart pounded as he scrolled back, reading from the beginning of the conversation.
There, he saw Joan’s joy in her pregnancy, her excitement, her love. But then, months later, the tone shifted.
The doctors said something scary… Joan had written.
Melissa replied quickly: What? What’s going on? Are you okay?
Joan’s next message made David’s blood run cold.
They said I have high blood pressure and could develop pre-eclampsia further on. The doctor said I should terminate the pregnancy.
Melissa’s panic was clear in her reply: No! Honey, that’s horrible. But what if you die? What did David say?
Joan answered: He wasn’t with me. I haven’t told him. He wants a child so bad. We’ve been trying for ten years, Melissa. I can’t abort this baby. It’s his dream to be a father.
Melissa begged her: Joan, you could die! He wouldn’t want that. He loves you!
But Joan was firm: I know, Mel. But it’s our baby. I love him or her. I’m going to risk it.
David’s hands shook as he read those words. His heart felt like it had been ripped in two. Joan had known. She had been warned. And she had chosen to risk everything—for him, for their baby, for the family they had dreamed of for a decade.
Tears blurred his vision as he scrolled through the rest of the messages. Melissa had kept checking in, asking how Joan felt. Joan always said she was fine, even when doctors warned that symptoms might not show. David realized he had never truly listened when the doctors spoke to him that awful day. He had shut down the moment they said she was gone.
Now, the truth crushed him. Joan had made the ultimate sacrifice, and all this time, he had ignored their child—the very reason she gave her life.
“What am I going to do now?” David whispered to the empty room, clutching the phone. “Am I really going to let my mother raise the baby Joan died to give me?”
This time, the tears that spilled down his cheeks weren’t just grief. They were a release. A thank you. A promise.
He knew what he had to do.
David grabbed his phone and called his mother. His voice shook, but there was strength in it too. “Mom, bring the baby back. I’m ready now.”
On the other end, his mother gasped, her voice breaking. “Oh, thank God!” she said, nearly in tears herself.
David looked around the room at Joan’s belongings, her phone still glowing softly in his hand. He whispered into the air, as if she could hear him, “I’ll take care of her, Joan. I swear it. She’ll know how much you loved her.”
From that day on, David was a changed man. He cradled his daughter, Georgina Joan Sanders, and promised her a life filled with love, stories of her incredible mother, and the devotion of a father who had finally woken up.
Lesson from this story:
- Always honor the sacrifices your partner makes, whether they are alive or gone. Recognize their love in the little and big things.
- Never be ashamed to seek help when grief feels unbearable. Therapy gave David the strength to face the truth and become the father his daughter needed.