My Husband Missed the Birth of Our First Child — After Discharge, I Returned to an Empty House and a Creepy Note in the Crib

When Elena was in the hospital, ready to deliver her and Michael’s first child, she found herself alone with her mother. Michael was nowhere to be seen. After being discharged, Elena returned home, hoping to find Michael there with a reasonable explanation. Instead, she discovered a note blaming her mother for his absence. But where had Michael gone, and what had happened?

I always believed that the happiest day of my life was my wedding day with Michael. Then, when I discovered I was pregnant, I thought that giving birth to our baby would surpass that joy. However, it turned out to be the beginning of a nightmare. Michael had vowed to be by my side, holding my hand as we welcomed our baby into the world. Together, we had planned every detail, from the delivery room music to the tiny hat he’d place on our newborn’s head.

Yet, when the moment arrived, Michael was absent. I recall the nurses offering sympathetic smiles, trying to reassure me that he was probably just running late. But as time ticked by, an uneasy feeling gnawed at me. I’d been calling him for hours, leaving increasingly frantic messages, but there was no response. As my contractions grew stronger, so did my anxiety. Was I really about to go through this alone? What could have kept him from being there?

“Come on, Michael,” I muttered through clenched teeth. When my daughter finally arrived, joy filled my heart, but it was overshadowed by the glaring emptiness beside me. Where was Michael? Why hadn’t he come? My mother stayed by my side, holding my hand in his absence. Yet, I could see the worry etched on her face. If she knew something, she didn’t let on.

“Relax, Elena,” my mother urged. “Focus on Emily now, and take care of yourself. Your body needs rest.”

“I know,” I replied, though concern gripped me. After two days in the hospital, I was discharged. My mother helped me carry Emily to the car, and we drove home in silence, her fingers drumming anxiously on the steering wheel.

I tried to calm myself, convincing myself there must be a valid reason for Michael’s absence. Maybe work had kept him away, or perhaps he’d had an accident and was in another hospital. My thoughts spiraled, imagining increasingly wild scenarios as we neared home. But nothing could have prepared me for what awaited us there.

The house was eerily quiet as I opened the door. I half-expected Michael to be there, ready with an excuse I could forgive after seeing his expression. “Michael?” I called, my voice echoing in the stillness. “Are you here?”

No answer.

“Quiet down, Elena,” my mother admonished. “Emily is sleeping.” Ignoring her, I hurried upstairs. Perhaps he was in the nursery, waiting for us to return. We had spent weeks creating the perfect room for our daughter, every detail lovingly arranged. But when I opened the door, my breath hitched.

The room was nearly empty. The crib remained, but all the decorations, stuffed animals, baby outfits, and carefully chosen blankets were gone. Inside the crib lay a single piece of paper.

I love you and our baby, Elena. But I have to leave forever. Ask your mom why this happened. I’ve taken some of Emily’s things to remember you both.

I stared at the note, trying to process the words. What did Michael mean? Why did he have to leave? And how was my mother involved?

“Mom!” I shouted, stumbling down the stairs as quickly as my postpartum body allowed. Clutching the note tightly, I confronted her in the living room, where she was cradling Emily. “What is this? What did you do? Where is Michael?”

Her expression was heavy, and for a moment, I saw something flicker in her eyes—guilt? Regret? “I didn’t want you to find out like this,” she began hesitantly.

“Find out what?” I demanded, my voice rising. “What are you talking about?”

Taking a deep breath, she braced herself. “I discovered something about Michael, sweetheart. Something I couldn’t keep to myself. He needed to know that I knew.”

“What? Stop speaking in riddles!” I snapped, exhaustion catching up to me.

“He’s been unfaithful,” she said softly. “With someone from his workplace. I overheard him on a phone call, arranging to meet at a motel. When I confronted him, he confessed. He’s been involved with his boss—someone far wealthier than we could ever imagine.”

Her words struck me like a physical blow, and I sank onto the couch, my chest tightening. “No, Mom,” I whispered. “That can’t be true. Michael loves me. He’s been so thrilled about our baby.”

“I wish it weren’t true,” she said quietly. “But when I confronted him, I gave him a choice: tell you everything or leave. And this is what he chose.”

I felt torn apart. How could my mother have kept this from me? How could she make such a decision without giving me the chance to confront Michael myself? “You took that choice away from me,” I said, tears streaming down my face.

My mother’s eyes softened. “I thought I was protecting you,” she said. “You’ve already endured so much during this pregnancy. I didn’t want you to suffer even more.”

In the days that followed, I grappled with the betrayal. Michael’s late nights, business dinners—they all took on a new, painful meaning. One day, my calls finally reached him by accident. “Michael,” I said, my voice trembling. “Is it true?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “I’m not coming back. I’ve fallen for Gretchen. But I’ll transfer the house to your name.”

Michael’s absence left a void, but I found strength in my daughter. Emily would never know the pain of her father’s betrayal. And as I embraced my new reality, I realized that rebuilding my life, though daunting, was my only option.