Gwen’s journey to motherhood took a dramatic turn when she almost gave up her daughter after birth. Read how her choice to take her back changed her life forever and gave her a new sense of purpose.
A Story of Fear, Regret, and Redemption
My name is Gwen, and I’ve lived through things that most people would never wish to experience. At 31 years old, I had been through c@ncer, the pain of loneliness, and the terr!fying thought of being unable to become a mother. But the real challenge came when I was standing on the precipice of losing the most precious thing in my life—my daughter.
At the age of 24, I was diagnosed with cervic@l c@ncer. I had always imagined a future with children, but that future was suddenly snatched away from me with the diagnosis. The doctors told me I most likely wouldn’t be able to have children. I accepted it, and so began a new chapter of my life—one without children, just my career, and the freedom I thought I wanted.
Fast forward to a few years later, when life threw me a curveball I never expected. I felt strange—weak, dizzy, and off. A visit to the gynecologist revealed sh0cking news: I was pregnant. Four months along. I could hardly believe it. I had convinced myself I couldn’t have children, but here I was, expecting one. Panic overtook me, and I didn’t know what to do.
“I can’t raise this child,” I thought. “I don’t even have a partner. I don’t want to be a mother.”
I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t share it with my family, my friends, or my coworkers. I hid the pregnancy, wearing loose clothing to keep it a secret. Everything felt overwhelming. Then came the day I went into labor while traveling in Brazil, far away from home.
A Difficult Decision: Leaving My Daughter Behind
I gave birth to a beautiful girl, whom I named Lolisa. But I felt nothing. Just exhaustion. The idea of motherhood terr!fied me. As I looked at her, a part of me just wanted to leave her behind, in that strange country, far from everything I knew. But something inside me stopped. I couldn’t leave her there. Not like that.
I managed to get her documents and brought her back to the States. But when I returned home, the weight of responsibility h!t me hard. I couldn’t do this. I didn’t have the strength. So, the very next day, I took Lolisa to a child welfare center, where I told them I couldn’t manage. They accepted her quietly, without judgment, and I went home.
That night, I fell into bed, numb. The emptiness was unbearable. The next day, I went back to work, pretending nothing had changed.
The Turning Point: How I Realized What Truly Matters
A few weeks passed, and the shelter called me. “There’s something wrong with your daughter,” they said. “She’s not eating, not responding. She just cries.”
I don’t know why I went back. Maybe it was to make sure it wasn’t my fault. But when I saw her, something inside me shattered. She looked at me, recognition in her eyes. She didn’t cry. She just stared, waiting. That was all I needed to see. My daughter needed me.
I couldn’t deny it any longer. I went home that night and didn’t sleep. The next morning, I confessed everything to my friends, my coworkers, and my boss. I couldn’t hide anymore. And a week later, I brought Lolisa home.
A New Beginning: Embracing Motherhood and Healing
At first, everything was difficult. Sleepless nights. Exhaustion. Fear. But as the days passed, Lolisa got stronger, and I started to find my footing again. We slowly became a family, just the two of us. And as I held my daughter, I realized I had found my purpose. I was truly alive again, not just surviving but thriving.
Lolisa is now three years old. She runs around the house, laughs, and sings. And as for me? I’m no longer the woman I was before. I’m her mother. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
Reflecting on My Journey: A Story of Love and Change
Looking back, I often wonder if I would have had the courage to make the right choice if I hadn’t been forced to face the truth. In that moment of weakness, when I thought I couldn’t handle being a mother, I almost lost everything. But choosing to keep my daughter not only saved her life—it saved mine.
I’m not sure what the future holds. I don’t know if I’ll ever meet someone who will love both me and Lolisa, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I chose love over fear, and I have no regrets.
Lolisa is my salvation. She’s my redemption. And I am forever grateful for the second chance I’ve been given.