My sister announced she was pregnant for the fifth time while I was already raising her four children.
My sister announced she was pregnant for the fifth time while I was already raising her four children. I finally said no and walked out. Twenty minutes later, one of the kids called me and whispered, “Mom left us alone.” So I called the police.
My sister announced her fifth pregnancy while I was spoon-feeding her two-year-old and helping her seven-year-old finish homework.
Everyone clapped.
I put the spoon down.
Bethany smiled across my mother’s dining table and touched her stomach.
“Surprise. Baby number five.”
Mom squealed.
Her boyfriend, Travis, raised a beer.
I stared at the four children around me.
For six years, I had handled school pickups, doctor appointments, groceries, bedtime, emergency daycare, and half the rent whenever Bethany was “between jobs.”
She called me Aunt Sarah when she wanted gratitude.
She called me selfish whenever I said no.
Bethany grinned.
“You’re going to be busy again.”
“No.”
The room went quiet.
She laughed.
“What?”
“I’m done raising your children.”
Mom immediately snapped, “Sarah, don’t ruin this.”
Bethany’s smile vanished.
“You can’t just abandon them.”
“They aren’t mine.”
That was when Travis stood.
“Then leave.”
So I did.
I grabbed my purse and walked out while Bethany shouted that I would regret it.
Twenty minutes later, my phone rang.
It was eleven-year-old Mason.
“Aunt Sarah, Mom and Travis left.”
I stopped the car.
“What do you mean, left?”
“They said you’d come back.”
My stomach dropped.
Four children were alone in the house.
The youngest was two.
I called 911.
By the time I returned, two police cars were outside.
And when Bethany finally pulled into the driveway, she wasn’t angry that the police were there.
She was terrified of what they had already found inside.
Because I had spent years believing Bethany was simply irresponsible.
I was about to learn that leaving four children alone that night was not the worst thing she had been hiding.
