My story is about how my ex-husband’s girlfriend realized a truth about him that I grew too comfortable with while married to him. With one important question, his new girlfriend taught me a valuable lesson about self-love after reaching out unexpectedly.
I’ve been divorced for five years now, and it’s been an interesting journey navigating life post-marriage. My ex-husband, Ben, 48, and I, 45, were together for 13 years and had two wonderful kids. Even after our split, we’ve managed to stay on good terms.
We co-parent effectively despite our marriage having its ups and downs. Ben and I are best friends and have also maintained a friendship that surprises most people. Our divorce wasn’t messy; we simply wanted different things out of life.
Yesterday was our eldest’s 16th birthday, and we decided to celebrate with a family dinner. Ben has been seeing someone new, a woman named Lisa, for about four months. He told me about her as soon as their relationship got serious.
Transparency was part of our agreement to keep things open and honest for the sake of our children. He asked if he could bring Lisa to the birthday dinner, and while I wasn’t thrilled as I would have preferred to meet her one-on-one first, I didn’t want to cause any drama or be intrusive. So, I agreed.
On that fateful day, I finally got to meet Lisa who was friendly, and eager to make a good impression, which was a relief. I preferred her to be a good person if she was going to be around my children.
She’s got a kind smile and she immediately struck up a conversation with me about the kids’ school and activities. I could tell she was trying hard to fit in, which I appreciated.
As the evening went on, I noticed how attentive Lisa was to Ben. It was sweet but also a little unsettling because I never saw that side of him during our marriage. I chalked it up to new relationship energy and tried to focus on the kids and the celebration.
Halfway through dinner, things got weird when my eldest handed me a birthday card from her father. This caught me off guard because my birthday was months ago. No one usually remembers it, and Ben has never been one to recall such occasions.
Don’t get me wrong, my children’s father is a great man. But he’s really terrible with things like anniversaries, birthdays, or any special occasions. During all the years we were together, Ben never got me a present or card.
It was also my responsibility to handle events like the kids’ birthdays, Christmas, and more. I don’t know if I was wrong for this, but his forgetfulness didn’t bother me. I thanked my daughter, feeling touched by the gesture.
Lisa, sitting across from me, saw my surprise. I had assumed she’d made him get it, but then I noticed how she was giving me these funny looks. Unsure what they meant, I decided to mingle with other guests to avoid the awkwardness.
But, Lisa somehow managed to get my attention. “Ben mentioned he’s not great with birthdays,” she said with a chuckle. “He forgot mine a few weeks ago. Is it intentional?”
I laughed, remembering all the missed anniversaries and forgotten special days. “I have no idea, Lisa, but 13 years of marriage and two kids wasn’t the benchmark because he never really got the hang of it,” I replied. “It’s just who he is.”
Lisa seemed disappointed and tried to hide it, but I thought nothing of it and wandered off to talk to other guests. I decided to shift the conversation to something lighter and talked about family plans and the upcoming holidays. The rest of the evening went smoothly, and we all parted ways with smiles and hugs.
Later that night, as I was getting ready for bed, I received a text from an unknown number. It was my ex’s new girlfriend. “Hi, this is Lisa. I got your number from Ben. I hope it’s okay to text you. I wanted to ask you something.”
Curious, I replied, “Sure, what’s up?”
Her response came quickly and when I read it, I was STUNNED. She hadn’t gotten over our brief conversation earlier and was asking if Ben’s forgetfulness of special occasions was something that could be fixed. “I know this might seem odd because we touched on it earlier, but I need to know…”
“…Does Ben ever improve when it comes to birthdays and anniversaries? I don’t want to make a big deal out of it if it’s something that won’t change.” I stared at my phone, feeling a mix of emotions. Part of me wanted to warn her, to tell her not to ever expect much.
But another part of me debated whether to give Ben a heads-up as it seemed like this was a serious issue for his new girlfriend and that she expected more attention to such things. Yet, a part of me resented having to teach him to be better about something he never tried with me.
I also felt like it wasn’t my place to interfere. After a moment, I typed back, “Honestly, he’s my ex for a reason. I can’t say if he’ll change or not, and I’m not going to have the answers you need.” I continued, “It’s something you’ll have to figure out together. Lovely meeting you, though.”
Months went by without much thought about that night. Then, one evening, Ben called me out of the blue. “Lisa and I broke up,” he said, sounding frustrated.
“What happened?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“She kept making a big deal out of nothing, busy complaining about birthdays and anniversaries. I told her it’s not something I care about, and she just wouldn’t let it go,” he said, sounding furious.
“It turned into this huge argument when I forgot our anniversary, and she left,” he explained, his voice tinged with annoyance.
I sighed, feeling a twinge of guilt as I wondered if I could’ve helped them if I had been more supportive of Lisa when she texted me. “Ben, did she tell you it was important to her?” I asked, feeling like my responses to Lisa played a part in their breakup.
He was silent for a moment. “She told me on many occasions that such things were important to her.”
“But WHO CARES! You never made it a big deal,” he said defensively.
Tired of coddling him, I said, “Well, sir, and that’s why we divorced.”
“That’s mean, Kim,” my ex replied, sounding sad.
“Look, I’m sorry, but I stopped trying because I knew it wouldn’t matter to you,” I replied calmly. “But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t important to me. Or to her. You have to meet people halfway.”
Ben grumbled something under his breath, and I could tell he wasn’t ready to accept that truth. We ended the call on a neutral note, and I sat there, thinking about Lisa. She deserved someone who would appreciate her efforts and reciprocate her feelings.
A few days later, I bumped into Lisa at the grocery store. She looked tired but managed a smile when she saw me. “Hi, how are you?” she asked politely.
“I’m good, thanks. How about you?” I replied, genuinely concerned.
“I’ve been better,” she admitted. “Ben and I broke up.”
“I heard,” I said softly. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
She sighed. “I couldn’t deal with feeling unimportant. I tried to explain it to him, but he didn’t seem to care.”
I nodded, understanding her frustration all too well. “It’s hard when someone doesn’t value what you do. You deserve someone who will.”
Lisa smiled sadly. “Thanks. I appreciate that. I guess I hoped he could change.”
“Change is hard for some people,” I said gently. “But don’t lose hope. You’ll find someone who values you.”
We parted ways, and I felt a strange sense of closure. Lisa’s struggle mirrored my past frustrations, but it also highlighted how much I had grown since my marriage ended. I had learned to accept Ben’s flaws, but I also realized that I deserved more than what he was willing to give.
That evening, I sat down with my children and talked about their dad. I wanted them to understand that while he had his shortcomings, he loved them deeply. We laughed about his forgetfulness and shared stories of the good times we had as a family.
As I reflected on everything, I felt a deep sense of peace. I had moved on from the hurt and disappointment and was ready to embrace whatever the future held. I hoped Lisa would find the happiness she deserved, and I knew that I had done the right thing by not getting too involved in their relationship.
In the end, it wasn’t about birthdays or anniversaries. It was about finding someone who truly valued and appreciated you for who you are. I did not doubt that Lisa would find that person someday, and I knew I was finally content with my own life.
As I looked at my children, I felt grateful for the love and joy they brought into my life. We had our good and bad moments, but we were a family, and that was what mattered most. And as for Ben, I hoped he would eventually learn to value the important things in life.
For now, I was happy. I had my kids, friends, and a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in a long time. And that was more than enough.
If you enjoyed Kim’s story, you’ll love this one about a woman who got pregnant around the same time her son’s girlfriend was also expecting. The son’s girlfriend caused a rift in the family when she made demands of his mother about naming her child.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
I Became a Surrogate for My Sister & Her Husband — When They Saw the Baby, They Yelled, ‘This Isn’t the Baby We Expected’
What do you do when love turns conditional? When the baby you carried in your womb as a surrogate is deemed ‘unwanted’? Abigail dealt with that heartbreak when her sister and her husband saw the baby she birthed for them and shrieked: ‘THIS ISN’T THE BABY WE EXPECTED. WE DON’T WANT IT.’
I’ve always believed that love makes a family. Growing up, Rachel wasn’t just my little sister. She was my shadow, my confidante, and my other half. We shared everything: clothes, secrets, dreams, and an unshakeable belief that we’d raise our children together someday. But fate had other plans for Rachel. Her first miscarriage shattered her.
A sad woman leaning on a table | Source: Midjourney
I held her through the night as she sobbed with grief. The second miscarriage dimmed the light in her eyes. By the third, something in Rachel changed. She stopped talking about babies, stopped visiting friends with children, and stopped coming to my boys’ birthday parties.
It hurt watching her slip away, piece by piece.
I remember the day everything changed. It was my son Tommy’s seventh birthday party, and my other boys — Jack (10), Michael (8), and little David (4) — were racing around the backyard in superhero costumes.
Rachel stood at the kitchen window, watching them with such longing eyes that it hurt to see.
A heartbroken woman standing near the kitchen window | Source: Midjourney
“They’re getting so big,” she whispered, pressing her hand against the glass. “I keep thinking about how our kids were supposed to grow up together. Six rounds of IVF, Abby. Six. The doctors said I can no longer—” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
That’s when her husband Jason stepped forward, his hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “We’ve been talking to specialists. They suggested surrogacy.” He glanced at me meaningfully. “They said a biological sister would be ideal.”
The kitchen fell silent except for the distant shrieks of my children playing outside. Rachel turned to me, hope and fear warring in her eyes. “Abby, would you…” she started, then stopped, gathering courage. “Would you consider carrying our baby? I know it’s asking the impossible, but you’re my only hope. My last chance at becoming a mother.”
A distressed woman looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
My husband Luke, who had been quietly loading the dishwasher, straightened up. “A surrogate? That’s a big decision. We should all discuss this properly.”
That night, after the boys were asleep, Luke and I lay in bed, talking in whispers. “Four boys is already a handful,” he said, stroking my hair. “Another pregnancy, the risks, the emotional toll —”
“But every time I look at our boys,” I replied, “I think about Rachel watching from the sidelines. She deserves this, Luke. She deserves to know the joy we feel.”
A woman lying on the bed | Source: Midjourney
The decision wasn’t easy, but watching Rachel and Jason’s faces light up when we said yes made every doubt worthwhile. “You’re saving us,” Rachel sobbed, clinging to me. “You’re giving us everything.”
The pregnancy brought my sister back to life. She came to every appointment, painted the nursery herself, and spent hours talking to my growing belly. My boys got into the spirit too, arguing over who would be the best cousin.
“I’ll teach the baby baseball,” Jack would declare, while Michael insisted on reading bedtime stories. Tommy promised to share his superhero collection, and little David simply patted my belly and said, “My buddy is inside.”
A pregnant woman holding tiny baby shoes | Source: Unsplash
The time for the baby’s birth arrived. The contractions came in waves, each one stronger than the last, and still no sign of Rachel or Jason.
Luke paced the room, phone pressed to his ear. “Still no answer,” he said, worry etching lines around his eyes. “This isn’t like them.”
“Something must be wrong,” I gasped between contractions. “Rachel wouldn’t miss this. She’s wanted it too much, for too long.”
An anxious man holding a phone in a hospital | Source: Midjourney
Hours passed in a blur of pain and worry. The doctor’s steady voice guided me through each push, Luke’s hand anchoring me to reality.
And then, cutting through the fog of exhaustion, came the cry — strong, defiant, and beautiful.
“Congratulations,” the doctor beamed. “You have a healthy baby girl!”
She was perfect with delicate dark curls, a rosebud mouth, and tiny fingers curled into fists. As I held her, counting her perfect fingers and toes, I felt the same rush of love I’d experienced with each of my boys.
A newborn baby | Source: Unsplash
“Your mommy’s going to be so happy, princess,” I whispered, kissing her forehead.
Two hours later, hurried footsteps in the hallway heralded Rachel and Jason’s arrival. The joy I expected to see on their faces was replaced by something else entirely. Something that made my heart stop.
Rachel’s eyes fixed on the baby, then darted to me, wide with horror. “The doctor just told us at the reception area. THIS ISN’T THE BABY WE EXPECTED,” she said, her voice shaking. “WE DON’T WANT IT.”
The words stung like poison. “What?” I whispered, instinctively pulling the baby closer. “Rachel, what are you saying?”
A woman pointing a finger | Source: Midjourney
“It’s a girl,” she said flatly as if those three words explained everything. “We wanted a boy. Jason needs a son.”
Jason stood rigid by the door, his face twisted with disappointment. “We assumed since you had four boys…” he paused, his jaw clenching. Without another word, he turned and walked out.
“Have you both lost your minds?” Luke’s voice trembled with fury. “This is your daughter. Your child. The one Abby carried for nine months. The one you’ve been dreaming of.”
“You don’t understand. Jason said he’d leave if I brought home a girl,” Rachel explained. “He said his family needs a son to carry on the name. He gave me a choice — him or…” She gestured helplessly at the baby.
A sad woman closing her eyes | Source: Midjourney
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I asked.
“You gave birth to four healthy boys, Abby. I didn’t think it was necessary to —”
“So you’d rather abandon your child?” The words ripped from my throat. “This innocent baby who’s done nothing wrong except be born female? What happened to my sister who used to say love makes a family?”
“We’ll find her a good home,” Rachel whispered, unable to meet my eyes. “A shelter maybe. Or someone who wants a girl.”
The baby stirred in my arms, her tiny hand wrapping around my finger. Rage and protectiveness surged through me. “GET OUT!” I yelled. “Get out until you remember what it means to be a mother. Until you remember who you are.”
An angry woman yelling | Source: Midjourney
“Abby, please!” Rachel reached out, but Luke stepped between us.
“You heard her. Leave. Think about what you’re doing. Think about who you’re becoming.”
The week that followed was a blur of emotions. My boys came to meet their cousin, their eyes beaming with innocence.
Jack, my oldest, looked at the baby with fierce protectiveness. “She’s adorable,” he declared. “Mom, can we take her home?”
Grayscale shot of a newborn baby girl yawning | Source: Unsplash
At that moment, looking down at her perfect face, something fierce and unshakeable crystallized in my heart. I made my decision right then and there. If Rachel and Jason couldn’t see past their prejudices, I would adopt the baby myself.
This precious child deserved more than just shelter, more than being cast aside for something as meaningless as gender. She deserved a family who would cherish her, and if her own parents couldn’t do that, then I would.
I already had four beautiful boys, and my heart had plenty of room for one more.
A mother holding a baby | Source: Unsplash
Days passed. Then, one rainy evening, Rachel appeared at our door. She looked different. Smaller somehow, but also stronger. Her wedding ring was gone.
“I made the wrong choice,” she said, watching baby Kelly fast asleep in my arms. “I let his prejudice poison everything. I chose him that day at the hospital because I was scared of being alone… scared of failing as a single mother.”
Her fingers trembled as she reached out to touch Kelly’s cheek. “But I’ve been dying inside, every minute, every single day, knowing my daughter is out there and I abandoned her.”
An emotional woman looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
Tears streamed down her face. “I told Jason I want a divorce. He said I was choosing a mistake over our marriage. But looking at her now, she’s not a mistake. She’s perfect. She’s my daughter, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life making up for those first terrible hours.”
“It won’t be easy,” I warned, but Rachel’s eyes never left Kelly’s face.
“I know,” she whispered. “Will you help me? Will you teach me how to be the mother she deserves?”
Looking at my sister — broken but determined, scared but brave — I saw echoes of the girl who used to share all her dreams with me. “We’ll figure it out together,” I promised. “That’s what sisters do.”
A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
The months that followed proved both challenging and beautiful.
Rachel moved into a small apartment nearby, throwing herself into motherhood with the same determination she’d once shown in her career. My boys became Kelly’s fierce protectors, four honorary big brothers who doted on their baby cousin with boundless enthusiasm.
Tommy taught her to throw a ball before she could walk. Michael read her stories every afternoon. Jack appointed himself her personal bodyguard at family gatherings, while little David simply followed her around with devoted admiration.
Watching Rachel with Kelly now, you’d never guess their rocky start. The way she lights up when Kelly calls her “Mama,” the fierce pride in her eyes at every milestone, the gentle patience as she braids Kelly’s dark curls. It’s like watching a flower bloom in the desert.
A woman feeding her little daughter | Source: Unsplash
Sometimes, at family gatherings, I catch Rachel watching her daughter with love and regret. “I can’t believe I almost threw this away,” she whispered to me once, as we watched Kelly chase her cousins around the yard. “I can’t believe I let someone else’s prejudice blind me to what really matters.”
“What matters,” I told her, “is that when it really counted, you chose love. You chose her.”
Kelly might not have been the baby my sister and her ex-husband had expected, but she became something even more precious: the daughter who taught us all that family isn’t about meeting expectations or fulfilling someone else’s dreams. It’s about opening your heart wide enough to let love surprise you, change you, and make you better than you ever thought you could be.
A baby girl sitting against the backdrop of Christmas decorations | Source: Unsplash
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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