When I arrived at the hospital to bring home my wife and newborn twins, I was met with heartbreak: When she was gone and only left a cryptic note, Suzie was gone. Juggling the babies and unravelling the truth was really hard, and I found the dark secrets that broke my family apart.
The balloons bobbed in the passenger seat next to me as I drove to the hospital. I could not quit smiling. I was taking my girls home today!
When Suzie saw the nursery, the meal I had prepared, and the pictures I had framed for the mantle, I could not wait to see her smile. After nine hard months of morning sickness, back pain, and an unending round of my controlling mother’s ideas, she deserved to be happy.
It was the culmination of every dream I’d had for us.
I waved to the nurses at the station as I hurried to Suzie’s room. But when I pushed through the door, I froze in surprise.
Suzie was gone, but my daughters were in their bassinets asleep. Before I noticed the note, I assumed she had gone outside for some fresh air. With shaky hands, I ripped it open.
“Goodbye. Look after them. Find out from your mother why she treated me this way.
As I read it again, the world became hazy. And read it again. There was no change, no transformation of the words into something less awful. I was frozen in place as a chill ran along my skin.
What on earth was she trying to say? Why would she? No. This cannot be taking place. Suzie was content. She had been content. Had she not?
A nurse carrying a clipboard entered the room. “Good morning, sir, here’s the discharge —”
“Where’s my wife?” I interrupted.
The nurse hesitated, biting her lip. “She checked out this morning. She said you knew.”
“She — where did she go?” I stammered to the nurse, waving the note. “Did she say anything else? Was she upset?”
The nurse frowned. “She seemed fine. Just… quiet. Are you saying you didn’t know?”
I shook my head. “She said nothing… just left me this note.”
With my girls in my arms and the note crumpled in my fist, I walked out of the hospital in a haze.
Suzie had left. The lady I thought I knew, my wife, my companion, had abruptly disappeared. That foreboding message, my broken plans, and two little kids were all I had.
My mother, Mandy, was waiting on the porch with a casserole dish in her hand and a big smile on her face when I pulled into the driveway. I could smell the aroma of cheesy potatoes, but it did not calm the tempest that was building inside of me.
“Oh, let me see my grandbabies!” she exclaimed, setting the dish aside and rushing toward me. “They’re beautiful, Ben, absolutely beautiful.”
I stepped back, holding the car seat protectively. “Not yet, Mom.”
Her face faltered, confusion knitting her brow. “What’s wrong?”
I shoved the note in her direction. “This is what’s wrong! What did you do to Suzie?”
The smile vanished and she took the note with shaking fingers. Her pale blue eyes scoured the words, she for a moment looked like she’d faint.
Mother said, “I don’t know what this is about, Ben.” “She’s always been emotional… she’s always been emotional.” Maybe she —”
“Don’t lie to me!” My voice echoed off the porch walls and it erupted with the words. “You’ve never liked her. “It’s always been you and your ways to annoy her, criticize her —”
“That’s all I’ve ever tried to do!” She cried and the tears streamed down her cheek.
My stomach churned and I turned away. My words no longer rang true. Whatever had gone between them, Suzie had left. And now I was left to pick up the pieces.
After putting Callie and Jessica in their cribs that night, I sat at the kitchen table, both hands holding the note and then the whiskey. My mother’s protests rang in my ears, but I couldn’t let them drown out the question looping in my mind: What did you do, Mom?
I thought back to our family gatherings, and the small barbs my mother would throw Suzie’s way. Suzie had laughed them off, but I could see now, too late, how they must have cut her.
I started digging, both literally and metaphorically.
My sorrow and longing for my missing wife deepened as I looked through her things. I found her jewelry box in the closet and set it aside, then noticed a slip of paper peeking out beneath the lid.
When I opened it, I found a letter to Suzie in my mother’s handwriting. My heart pounded as I read:
You’ll never be good enough for my son, Suzie.” You’ve got him trapped by this pregnancy, but don’t for a second think you’re fooling me. You’ll leave before you ruin their lives if you care about them.”
My hand shook as I dropped the letter. This was it. This was why she’d left. My mother had been tearing her down behind my back. I ran through every interaction, every second that I’d shrugged off as inconsequential. How blind had I been?
It was almost midnight, but I didn’t care. I went to the guest room and banged on the door until Mom opened it.
“How could you?” I waved the letter in her face. “All this time, I thought you were just being overbearing, but no, you’ve been bullying Suzie for years, haven’t you?”
She looked at the message with a pallid face. “Listen to me, Ben—”
“No!” I interrupted her. “You pay attention to me. You are the reason Suzie left. since you gave her a sense of worthlessness. Now that she is gone, I am here attempting to raise two children by myself.
“I only wanted to keep you safe,” she said. “She was not worthy —”
“She is my children’s mother! You have no right to determine who is suitable for either them or me. Mom, you are done here. Gather your belongings. Leave.
She started crying uncontrollably. “That is not what you mean.”
“I do,” I said, cold as steel.
She opened her mouth to argue, but stopped. The look in my eyes must have told her I wasn’t bluffing. She left an hour later, her car disappearing down the street.
The next weeks were hell.
Between sleepless nights, dirty diapers, and endless crying (sometimes the babies, sometimes me) I barely had time to think.
But every silent moment reminded me of Suzie. In an attempt to find out where she could be, I reached out to her friends and relatives. She had not contacted any of them. However, Sara, a buddy from college, paused before speaking.
Sara said over the phone that she had discussed feeling “stuck.” “By everything, not by you, Ben. Your mother, the pregnancy. On one occasion, she informed me that Mandy had stated that the twins would be better off without her.
The blade twisted farther. “Why did not she tell me that my mother was talking to her like this?”
Ben, she was afraid. She feared that Mandy might turn on you. I advised her to speak with you, but Sara’s voice broke. “I apologize. I ought to have exerted more effort.
“Do you think she’s okay?”
“I hope so,” Sara said quietly. “Suzie’s stronger than she thinks. But Ben… keep looking for her.”
Weeks turned into months.
One afternoon, while Callie and Jessica napped, my phone buzzed. It was a text from an unlisted number.
When I opened it, my breath caught. It was a photo of Suzie, holding the twins at the hospital, her face pale but serene. Beneath it was a message:
“I wish I was the type of mother they deserve. I hope you forgive me.”
The number was right — and I called immediately, but it wouldn’t go through.
The messages didn’t go through, but I texted back. Shouting into a void was like that. However the photo helped reignite my determination. Suzie was out there. Even though she was obviously still in a bad place, and clearly, she was still alive; she was alive and at least a part of her still longed for us. I’d never give up on her.
No leads. No clues where Suzie was. A year went by. The twins’ first birthday was sweet and bitter. I’d been pouring into raising them, but there was no ache for Suzie gone.
Knock on the door that evening, and the living room girls were playing.
I thought I was dreaming at first. She was standing there holding a small gift bag with tears clouding her eyes. She was looking healthier, her cheek were more full, and she was more confident with her posture. The smile didn’t hide the sadness still there behind it.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
I did not consider. I drew her into my embrace and held her as firmly as I could. I felt complete for the first time in a year as she sobbed into my shoulder.
In the weeks that followed, Suzie confided in me about how her feelings of inadequacy, my mother’s harsh remarks, and postpartum depression had overtaken her.
She’d left to protect the twins and to escape the spiral of self-loathing and despair. Therapy had helped her rebuild, one painstaking step at a time.
“I didn’t want to leave,” she said one night, sitting on the nursery floor as the girls slept. “But I didn’t know how to stay.”
I took her hand. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”
And we did. It was difficult; healing is never simple. However, love, tenacity, and the mutual delight of seeing Callie and Jessica blossom were sufficient to restore what we had nearly lost.