Woman Abandons Her Disabled Child, Can't Recognize Her Years Later When She Returns with a Request

Jill has gone her whole life knowing that her mother didn't want her, so Jill's father brought her up. Now, fifteen years later, a mysterious woman appears on their doorstep asking for Jill's father. Who is she and what does she want?

Yesterday, my entire world turned upside down when a woman walked through the door. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought she was just another person I hadn't met before.

Instead, the woman who knocked on our front door was my mother.

Growing up, my Mom, Susan, didn't want me. I was slower than most children, meeting developmental milestones later than my peers. This meant that I started walking slower and only really started talking when I was about three years old.

Instead of trying to do things differently with me — like being patient and caring, my mother declared that she couldn't do it anymore. According to my aunt, she had said, "I wasn't born to raise this misery."

My aunt told me that Susan was stressed out by the thought of having to look after a child who could potentially never eat, speak, or walk on her own — this was because the doctors had said that my situation was unpredictable.

They said I could be fine in a few years or be stuck, unable to do things for myself.

My Dad, disgusted by my mother's behavior, left her and decided to raise me by himself. My aunt, his sister, helped out whenever we needed her.

But even now, my father would never say anything wrong about my mother — he wanted me to think that she couldn't take the pressure of being a mother and that she was only human. It was my aunt who told me the truth.

Now, fifteen years later, this mysterious woman arrived on our doorstep, claiming to know my father.

"So, are you this wife?" she sneered, looking around our home as I invited her inside to wait for him.

"No," I said, wondering how she could think that a seventeen-year-old would be married to my father.

"I'm Jill," I said. "His daughter."

The woman seemed to choke on her tongue.

"Are you okay?" I asked, getting her a glass of water.

"You must be kidding me," she exclaimed, her face contorting with disbelief. "You can walk! You can talk! You're beautiful!"

That's when the realization dawned on me —this woman was Susan, my mother.

"Thank you, I think," I said.

"Could I get a cup of tea?" she asked. "I have to take some medication."

I entered the kitchen and put the kettle on, watching Susan take in her surroundings.

I couldn't quite figure out why she was here. My aunt had told me that my mother didn't want a child, so I shouldn't hold onto the hope that she would come back for me one day.

But here she was, just sitting in our living room.

What if she did come back for me? I thought to myself. Maybe she wants a relationship now.

Of course, that wasn't the case.

My father walked in, happily humming to himself until he saw Susan sitting in his armchair, sipping her tea.

"What are you doing here, Susan?" he spat, a testament to years of resentment.

Susan, composed and visibly shaken, revealed her true motive. The reason for her visit had nothing to do with a reunion like I had hoped but everything to do with needing a lifeline.

She was sick, and she desperately needed a liver transplant. She had contacted all her relatives, hoping for someone to be a match but nobody was.

Finally, she remembered I was still around and came to us as a last resort. She hoped that I would be the answer to her prayers. She wanted me to do a blood test.

"You want me to be your donor?" I asked, my voice trembling with disbelief and anger.

Why did I think that she would want to reconsider with me? She came over because she had no other choice.

"I will leave it up to you, Jill," my father said. "But you are not obligated to save the woman who had once declared you were a misery to her."

That statement alone revealed how little my father thought of Susan — usually, he tried to soften the blow and speak nicely about her, but this was entirely different.

I have to make a decision soon. On one hand, there is a mother who never wanted me but now needs me to survive. On the other hand, I'd love to help a woman in need, but at what cost? The surgery is invasive and terrifying to me.

If you were me, what would you do?

Here's another story for you: A young brother and sister interrupt a wedding ceremony, clinging desperately to the bride and calling her "Mom." She appears not to know who they are, but their shocking appearance reveals a hidden family secret that finally comes to light.

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