Stories

After I gave birth to my child alone, my mother texted me: “I need $2,600 for new iPhones for your sister’s kids. Christmas is important for them.” I froze. Then I quietly blocked her number and withdrew every dollar from our joint account. When my mother found out, the calls and messages started pouring in. Meanwhile, I was still staring at my phone, rereading her message for the third time.

My two week old daughter sleeping in my arms. I need $2,600 for new iPhones for your sister’s kids. Christmas is important for them. my mother. The woman who hadn’t called me once during my entire pregnancy, the woman who didn’t answer when I went into labor at 3:00 a.m. and had to take an Uber to the hospital because I had no one else and now she wanted money for iPhones.

Let me back up because you need to understand how I got here. My name is Ava. I’m 20 years old and 2 weeks ago I gave birth to the most beautiful baby girl completely alone. No mother holding my hand, no father pacing in the waiting room, just me, a nurse named Nancy, who felt sorry for me, and the overwhelming terror of becoming a parent when I still felt like a kid myself.

6 months before that, I told my boyfriend Logan about the pregnancy. We’d been together for almost 2 years, and I actually thought he’d be happy. He looked at me like I just told him I had some contagious disease. 3 days later, his stuff was gone from our apartment. He moved to Portland with some girl he met online, blocked me on everything, and that was it.

The father of my child just vanished. Do you think I should have seen it coming? I called my mother that night crying so hard I could barely breathe. You know what she said? Ava, I have enough problems. Your sister Ashley just got divorced and she’s moving back in with her three kids. I can’t deal with your drama right now. Drama.

My entire life falling apart was drama. My father got on the phone for exactly 45 seconds. You made your choices, Ava. You’re an adult now. Figure it out. I could hear the football game in the background. I had my cousin Tyler, though. He was the only one who checked on me, who brought me groceries when I couldn’t afford them.

“You’ve got this, Ava.” He’d say, “That baby is lucky to have you.” Sometimes I believed him. The pregnancy was hell. I worked at a call center until I was 8 months along. Lived off ramen and whatever food samples I could get at Costco. I’d lie awake at night, my hand on my growing belly, and think things that scared me.

dark thoughts about how maybe everyone would be better off if I just but I won’t get into that. Nothing good came from thinking that way. My parents helped Ashley with everything. Co-signed her mortgage, watched her kids every weekend through her huge baby showers for my baby. Nothing. Not even a text asking if I was okay.

The thing is, I had stupidly kept a joint bank account with my mother from when I was 16. I’d been slowly saving money in there. Dollar 3847. every spare dollar, every birthday check from my grandmother before she passed. It was my safety net for hospital bills and baby supplies. Then labor started on a Tuesday night.

I called my mother 17 times. She didn’t pick up once. I called my father. Voicemail. I called Ashley. She texted back, “Can’t talk. Kids have school tomorrow.” Tyler was in Denver for work. I was alone.

The Uber driver ran two red lights getting me to the hospital. 16 hours of labor with nurses rotating in and out asking where my family was, looking at me with pity.

Nancy, one of the nurses, stayed past her shift. She held my hand and when my daughter was born, 6 lb 11 o of perfect, Nancy cried with me. I named her Lily after my grandmother, the only person in my family who ever truly loved me.

I took Lily home to my studio apartment and tried to figure out how to keep a tiny human alive when I barely knew how to keep myself alive.

The hospital bills were insane. I set up a payment plan that would take years to pay off.

My mother finally called on day 13, not to ask how I was, not to ask about her granddaughter. She called to complain about Ashley’s kids being loud and how expensive everything was. I listened numb while Lily slept on my chest.

I thought maybe she’d ask about us.

Maybe she’d remember I just had a baby.

She didn’t.

And then came that text.

2 weeks after I gave birth, I need $2,600 for new iPhones for your sister’s kids. Christmas is important for them.

I sat there reading it over and over.

Ashley’s kids, ages 7, 9, and 11, needed new iPhones.

That was almost everything I had saved.

That was Lily’s future.

That was our grocery money, diaper money, everything.

Imagine what you would do in my position.

My hands started shaking. I put Lily in her crib and called my mother back.

Hi, sweetie. She answered like everything was normal. Did you get my message about the phones?

Yes, I got it.

Great. Can you transfer it today? I want to order them before.

No.

Silence.

What?

I said, “No, Mom. I’m not giving you $2,600 for iPhones.”

Her voice went cold and sharp.

Ava, don’t be selfish. You know how hard this year has been for Ashley. Those kids deserve a nice Christmas.

Vodacity.

“It’s not Lily’s fault her father left either,” I said quietly.

Or that her grandmother didn’t care enough to check if she was born alive.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic. I’ve been busy.”

Did you know I almost died during delivery? I interrupted.

Did you know my blood pressure spiked and they had to monitor me for seizures?

Did you even wonder?

Do you think she apologized?

This isn’t about you, Ava. This is about family.

About doing the right thing for the kids.

And that’s when something inside me just broke.

Or maybe it finally healed.

“You’re right,” I said. “This is about family, which is why I’m taking care of mine.”

I hung up.

I logged into the bank account, staring at that $3,847.

I transferred every single dollar to my personal account.

Then I removed her from the joint account and closed it.

My phone started ringing immediately.

I blocked her number.

Then my father’s.

Then Ashley’s.

Tyler called 5 minutes later.

“What’s going on? Your mom just called me screaming.”

Tell me honestly, Tyler, do you think I’m wrong?

He was quiet for a moment.

“Tell me what happened.”

So I did.

Everything.

“Jesus Christ, Ava,” he breathed. “No, you’re not wrong. Not even a little bit.”

“She’s going to make my life hell,” I said.

“Then make yours heaven,” he said.

“You don’t owe them anything.”

That night, I sat with Lily, feeding her, looking at her tiny, perfect face, and I thought about what kind of life I wanted for us.

Not this.

Not this tiny apartment where my family could drop by and demand things.

Something better.

Somewhere better.

Because what happened next?

Well, that changed everything.

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