Everyone has secrets, even parents. Moms and dads post online their deepest and darkest secrets they’ve kept from their children. Content has been edited for clarity.
A Mom And Her Daughter’s Ex-Boyfriend
“This was back in… let me think, maybe 1997? I was 38 and my daughter was 18, and she was dating Harry, who was 24.
I was an alcoholic and dabbled in other drugs. I was not a good person, let alone a mother. I was generally inattentive and cared more about my alcohol and drugs than her, especially in her teen years.
I disproved my daughter dating Harry, but I never told her why. He would flirt with me, constantly, and the age difference also creeped me out. Also, he was an alcoholic and drug user, just like me. She broke up with him over his alcoholism.
Soon after she moved away, Harry kept calling me and asking if we wanted to get drinks. I turned him down, but then one day he said he had a bunch of coke and I couldn’t resist. He came over, we did the coke, and we ended up hooking up. He was a very good-looking guy. He looked A LOT like that ridiculous 80s Justin Beiber picture that was on the front page today, that is actually what made me think about him.
For the next few months, maybe like 3-4 months, he would sometimes come over and we would hook up, do drugs, and get drunk together. Any drug addict knows what that is like to have a drug addict buddy in that way.
Then I got pregnant. I knew it was by him. I never told him I was pregnant, and I went and got the abortion and kept it a secret.
Anyways, I stopped seeing him after that, it was too weird. I also got sober, for like 4 months, before relapsing.
Fast forward 2 years, my daughter contacted me and told me she got back with Harry, and that he was fully sober. I was mortified honestly. He was gonna tell her that we slept together, and she was going to hate me for life.
Then they came over one day and said hi. When my daughter was gone, Harry told me there was no reason to tell her about what happened. I agreed.
It had been 16 years of marriage on their part. They have a kid together. Harry got cancer, then beat it. I got sober again and have been 14 years clean.
I don’t see them very often. They live in Texas and I live on the east coast. But whenever I do, there is always that tension between Harry and me. It’s literally the first thing that comes to either of our minds, I can just tell.
Not like sexual tension, like ‘Why did we have to do that? What is wrong with us?’ kind of tension.
I think about this often. Especially when I see my grandson. I always think that could have been my son if things had gone differently, but WOW what a disaster that would have been if I decided to keep that child.”
DNA Test
“My wife and I have been together for 14 years since we were 20. I always thought that we had a great relationship. Obviously, it wasn’t perfect. We fought occasionally and had disagreements, but we always got through it. We have three children, two boys, and a girl. Well, she has three children, apparently I only have two.
My eldest son is quite different from my other two kids. He’s very antisocial, always breaking things and doing everything he can to be a nuisance. He’s only 6, but he also looks nothing like me or his brother/sister. I noticed but forced it out of my mind until one of my friends made a joke about ‘the milkman.’
I laughed it off at the time but I couldn’t shake the feeling.
After a few sleepless nights, I decided to get him DNA tested. I felt terrible for not trusting my wife but I had a nagging feeling. I also thought if I was going to feel guilty for doing it, then I might as well do it for all of my kids. So, to make a long story short, my daughter isn’t actually mine. Ironically, it turns out that she’s the outlier.
This was the beautiful girl that I thought was my firstborn child. My baby girl. When my wife was pregnant with her, I stayed with and cared for her every night. I would kiss her belly and talk to a fetus which I thought I helped to create. My wife must have known, yet she let me believe that she was mine.
She let me bond with her and love her? How could she so readily make me a fool? All the stupid, corny shit I did with her, and she wasn’t even mine? I feel like an absolute idiot. I am disgusted and repulsed at the mere thought of her. I have felt sick ever since I found out. I haven’t said anything about it because I know that when I do, we will be over.”
“I Didn’t Get A Child”
“I’m a single mom of two boys. They are 12 and 7. My husband passed away three years ago in a work accident. A very large portion of me believes it was a suicide. I can’t see him EVER making the mistake he made that caused his death, and he had taken action just before that which ensured his co-workers weren’t in the room. I fully believe he killed himself because of our younger son and no one will ever change my mind.
We were told when I was pregnant that he would have Down Syndrome. We could handle that. But his disorder is very severe. He’ll never be anything more than he is now or has ever been.
But what he is, is nothing. I hardly consider him a person.
He doesn’t appear to have any awareness and never has. His eyes are locked in one position and don’t respond to noise, touch, or pain. My son isn’t capable of doing anything and is tube-fed and on oxygen. He is in diapers and will be forever. He makes no sounds, and no attempts to communicate. He is a vegetable.
I’m not upset because I got a special needs child. I feel the way I feel because this… thing… takes up 200% of my time and does NOTHING. I didn’t get an imperfect child. I didn’t get a child.
I don’t love him. He doesn’t have any personality, there is nothing to love. And yet I’m responsible for him. In addition to his extreme delays, he’s also medically fragile.
Our older son has suffered because his nonexistent brother has affected everything in his life. He’s had medical care get delayed because there’s only one of me and his brother is more critical. I was starting law school but I gave up my dreams for my children and this potato.
The final straw was I heard a sound. I went into Younger Son’s room to check, thinking he had forgotten how to breathe again, and I saw older son hitting his brother and screaming, ‘You’re why I don’t have a mother! You’re why I don’t have a father! You’re why I can’t have friends over! You’re why I can’t be in sports! I didn’t ask for you and I hope you die!’
Instead of being horrified, I watched. And Younger Son just did. not. react. No signs of pain or fear or upset. No reaction at all.
He breathes but he is not alive. He doesn’t know who I am. He doesn’t know who Older Son is. He has no sense of self, life experience, or awareness of his surroundings.
He doesn’t need to be in my home. He doesn’t know or care where he is. He is genetically my son but he is not family. My previously abused, brain-damaged cat who can’t walk straight has more personality and is far more loveable than my ‘child.’
This boy is not a gift. He is a genetic mistake I probably should have miscarried and would have definitely terminated if I’d known he would be like this. And the flip side is if he HAS awareness he’s certainly miserable. And there is nothing I can do. If he has likes and dislikes no one knows what they are. If he is in pain he can’t tell anyone. If he wants anything, he can’t communicate.
So I made a decision. He’s leaving our home on the 29th. I feel excited and relieved and then guilty because I know we’ll be happier with him gone.
He’s already taken my husband and my son’s father. He was working so so so much OT to pay for the cucumber’s care. For the experimental therapies insurance wouldn’t cover. Because THIS one was going to be the BREAKTHROUGH. He was tired and defeated and disappointed. He sought counseling as well but I don’t think he could ever say the words ‘I don’t want my son in my home’ either.
He’s ruined my older son. I was so wrapped up in the younger I never realized how ignored and damaged he was. He lost his father too. I didn’t just lose my husband. HE is my priority now and this malignant lump can be someone else’s problem. At least they’ll be paid a wage to care for him. At least they’ll get a break from him when they punch out.
I just want to never think of him again and I’m not sorry. And for that, I’m sorry.”
