Lenora, Think Twice Before Declining Custody of Your Child! It Will Be Too Late Later.

“Evelyn, think a hundred times before you sign the consent to give your baby up,” the matron warned, voice trembling. “Later it’ll be too late.”

“I can’t leave him,” Evelyn whispered, tears choking her words. “You have to understandI simply can’t.”

The entire staff of St. Mary’s Maternity Ward watched the young mother with uneasy concern. It was clear the decision tore at her, and perhaps they could still reach her.

“Sir raised me with an iron fist,” Evelyn began, her voice shaking. “He warned me since I was a child never to bring a child into the family unless it was legit. How could I tell him this happened? He still thinks I’m still studying, still earning a degree. I haven’t been home for six months because of the pregnancy, and I’ve been lying.”

“The world will throw you a curveball,” the doctor soothed. “He may shout, may scold, but in the end he’ll accept the boy as his grandsona continuation of his line.”

“No, you don’t know my father,” Evelyn cried. “He’s far too strict. If Mother were alive, she’d understand.”

Her sobs filled the ward. The baby’s father had already announced he was washing his hands of the matter; the child was useless to him. Evelyn had believed in his sincere affection, making the betrayal cut even deeper. She hesitated over an abortion, and in the end a healthy, rosycheeked boy was born.

Evelyn’s mother had died when Evelyn was in Year 6. She’d been travelling with colleagues when a crash took everyones lives but hers. From that moment Evelyn’s world split in two. Her father, like a man ripped from a chain, poured all his pain and rage for life’s unfairness onto his daughter.

“Listen, Evelyn,” he barked, “if you bring home a bastard, I’ll throw you out. There’s no shame in this family, understand? Study hard, become a doctor, earn respect.”

“Dad, what bastard? I’m still a girl, I’m doing well in school. Please don’t shout.”

Evelyn graduated with a gold medal, entered medical school as her parents had wished, and came home a few times a year. Her father would cook his famous roasted potatoes, ask about her studies, and always slip in the warning about “bastards,” just in case.

What he feared eventually happened. In her second year, Evelyn met a boy at a dance. She didn’t notice the spark at first, but soon she was head over heelsher first love. She imagined herself walking down the aisle in a white dress, her father beaming with pride at his beautiful, intelligent daughtertobebride. The boy, however, broke her heart and fled, shattering her wedding dreams like a gust of wind.

The labour was smooth, but watching her newborn was anything but easy. She declared she would sign the consent to give him up. When she saw his tiny, wrinkled face, her heart seized. Nine months she’d carried him under her heart, and now she was about to let him go.

Three mothers with babies shared the ward. Evelyn turned her back to the wall, refusing to watch them feed their infants. She never fed her own, despite the nurses’ pleas, hoping she might change her mind.

The consent was signed. No coaxing could sway her. She packed her bag in haste and left the hospital, clutching her papers. The midwives and nurses stared sorrowfully at the little boy, whom they called Andrew between themselves.

“Little lad, you’re all alone now,” one whispered. “Who knows what fate has in store? Most likely you’ll end up in a good family; children like you are quickly taken in.”

Andrew fell silent, his tiny nose twitching. Nurse Margaret, a kindly matron, gently sang to him and coaxed a sip of formula. She remembered most of the children abandoned here. Occasionally a mother would return, but rarely.

That night, Andrew seemed to sense his abandonment, wailing plaintively. He refused the formula, his cries echoing through the night. Margaret barely slept, soothing him as he finally drifted off, only to wake at sunrise, weak and indifferent.

“Ah, child, you hear your mother’s call, but she’s gone,” a nurse murmured. “She left, unwilling to bear you.”

During the morning ward round, Evelyn burst in, breathless.

“Where is he? He hasn’t been handed over yet? I want my son!”

“Evelyn, you’re back? Thank God! Andrew is still here; we haven’t processed the papers. Are you certain about this? It’s not a toy.”

“I’m absolutely sure! He’s my son, how could I abandon him!”

Tears streamed down Evelyn’s face. “I haven’t slept all night; I hear his cries in my head. My heart nearly splits from the pain! My little boy, alone without a mother… let me feed him, my milk is ready.”

They took her to a private room and placed Andrew on her chest. The infant began to suck eagerly. The staff at the doorway watched, genuine relief on their faces. He was no longer a discarded child; he was with his mother.

Evelyn recounted to her father later that she had confessed she’d given birth and left the baby because of his harshness. She told him she couldn’t live without the child and wanted him back. He was shocked at first, then said he wanted to see his grandson, calling her foolish but not a mother. He scolded her for keeping the secret. All her life she had heard, “Never have a child out of wedlock.” Yet here, the father wept with joy. “All right, I’ll take my grandson. We’ll go see your grandfather, give him his name and surname,” he said.

The whole maternity wing watched the fragile figure of a mother cradling her child, wishing them happiness. How often parents frighten daughters with words like, “If you bring home a bastard, you’ll be cast out!” How many girls have terminated pregnancies or abandoned newborns because of such warnings. Countless lives have been wrecked. Moral lessons matter, but girls need to know their parents love them and will accept them, no matter the circumstancesunmarried, pregnant, or with a child deemed a “bastard.”

Be loved and be happy.