Broken Dreams: How I Left My Son for the Illusion of Happiness
My name is Emily. My life has been a series of mistakes, and my son, Thomas, is the one who pays for them. Once, I was a young woman full of hope, dreaming of love and a white wedding. But fate had other plans. I ended up alone with a child in my arms, and my desperate search for happiness blinded me. “Mum, just look after him for a while—I need to find love!” I begged, leaving my son with my mother. Looking back now, I weep with guilt; because of me, my boy grew up without a proper family, and I never found what I was searching for.
I grew up in a small village near Leeds. Clever and pretty, I graduated school with top marks, studied education at university, and came back home to work as a nursery teacher. The children adored me, and I adored them. Life seemed full of promise. Then—love struck. His name was James. Our starlit dates, his warm embraces—I was certain it would last forever. One morning, I felt sick, and I knew—I was pregnant. Joy overwhelmed me. I pictured James proposing, imagined our baby looking just like him. “James, we’re going to have a baby!” I whispered happily, covering his eyes with my hands.
But his reaction shattered my heart. “This is a mess,” he muttered, pulling away. “How far along? You need to sort it out.” He wasn’t happy—he even doubted if the child was his. I barely made it home, choking back tears. My mum met me at the door. “Emily, where have you been? Dinner’s gone cold!” I sobbed, “Mum, I’m pregnant!” She hugged me tight. “If he won’t step up, don’t you dare get rid of it. We’ll raise this baby ourselves.”
Pregnancy was my torment. James moved on, forgetting me, while the village gossiped. When my belly grew, neighbours whispered behind my back. I hated James, hated myself. When my son was born, I felt no joy. “Emily, what shall we call him?” Mum asked. “I don’t care,” I snapped, turning away. She named him Thomas, after my dad. I refused to breastfeed. His crying grated on me, and I was ashamed of my coldness. James married someone else without ever seeing his son.
When Thomas turned two, I cracked. “Mum, I need to live! I can’t do this with a child. Just keep him for now—I’ll take him back once I’m settled,” I pleaded. She agreed, and I left for the city, abandoning my son. I dreamed of love, of a wedding ring. But years passed, and happiness slipped through my fingers. My friends married, while my romances fizzled out. Lonely, I bought myself a ring and cried at night, cursing fate.
Thomas grew up with his gran. When he started school, I sometimes brought him to stay with me, but I always sent him back quickly. Motherhood wasn’t for me. Then, a new school was built in the village, and I began taking walks, hoping to meet *the one*. That’s when I met Daniel. Our affair burned fast. When construction ended, I packed my things. “Emily, what about Thomas? He’s in Year Seven now,” Mum asked. “Later,” I dismissed her, dreaming of a wedding.
In the city, I got a job as a café manager. Daniel wasn’t what I’d imagined. He drank, brought rowdy friends home, and bellowed songs till dawn. “Plenty live like this,” I told myself. There was no wedding, but he proposed and gave me a ring. Summoning courage, I asked, “Daniel, could Thomas come live with us?” He shrugged. “Let him come—I’ll toughen him up!” Overjoyed, I hoped to make things right with my son.
But it all went wrong. Thomas arrived on one of Daniel’s drinking nights. “Come in, love—this is your room,” I said. Daniel cut in, “What’s with the attitude? At sixteen, he should be sitting with the lads!” I said he was tired from the journey, but they never got on. Daniel picked at Thomas constantly, so I rented him his own flat. “Sweetheart, just live alone for now—I’ll visit,” I pleaded. He nodded silently.
Thomas dropped out of college, got married, but it fell apart fast. Gran died, then Grandad. He stayed in their house, married a woman with three kids, but she cheated. Thomas left her, took up labour jobs, then quit those too. Now he’s alone, and I know—it’s my fault. I left him chasing a fantasy, and he grew up without love, without family. My tears won’t undo the past. How do I live with this guilt? Have I lost my son forever?