I Raised Four Hyper Sons as a Single Mother, 18 Years Later Their Deadbeat Dad Came Crawling Back to Us — My Story

Connie was left to raise their four ADHD children alone after her husband left her. But 18 years later, he appeared on her doorstep one evening, willing to start fresh. Would she forgive him?

You've probably seen a woman in a grocery store or a mall with a crying child, throwing his arms and bawling his eyes out. And you must have thought to yourself, "What a mess! Just get him the goddamn things he wants and tell him to shut up!"

I used to think the same thing until I became that woman, that mother.

My name is Connie, and I'm 47 years old. I've not had a very different life from you. I was a little girl who grew into a teen and then a young woman. You see, it's not all that different. Except I made some stupid decisions.

I used to work as a parking lot attendant and fell in love with a truck driver. His name was Jack, and I had never seen a more beautiful man. He wasn't just handsome, mind you! He was beautiful—his green eyes and golden locks would compel you to at least ask for his number. And I did that. I really did.

As he was leaving, I approached him and said, "Can I have your number?"

Yes, I asked that simply, and he smiled and said, "Are you free tonight?"

I was never free. I was this simple girl who had never had relationships before, and I would take up extra shifts because I never made any plans. But with Jack, everything was different. I felt different. Why? Because he was the one who made me realize I was a woman who could do much more than just work.

"Boys, I'm back! Your father is here for you!"

We had dinner together that night, and he didn't drop me home after that. We spent a passionate night in his truck—his skin, his hair, his touch, everything captivated me. I felt special whenever I was in his arms and he whispered "I love you" in my ears.

Soon after, we found out we were pregnant with our first child, and the day I revealed the pregnancy, Jack proposed to me.

"Yes, yes, I will! I will marry you," I cried into his shoulders, unable to believe my entire world had taken such a beautiful turn.

We married, had our first child, and moved into a cozy studio apartment together. Jack adored our little baby boy, Ethan, and I grew to admire him even more as I saw what a wonderful father and husband he was.

Then a year later, I conceived again, and we became parents for the second time. Jack seemed happy on the outside, but I knew he didn't feel the same on the inside. He wouldn't hold our baby so often and started avoiding me whenever I asked him to help with the kids.

I thought becoming a father to two children was taking a toll on him, so I never gave it much thought. I became someone like you, juggling home and work to keep my family together.

But can we really save a family that's destined to fall apart? I don't believe we can. And that's precisely what happened when our third child, Aaron, was born.

Jack just didn't seem to care anymore. He wasn't happy with my pregnancy and wanted me to terminate it. But I couldn't. I couldn't kill that little life growing inside me. And it was then that I realized Jack wasn't the best father and husband after all.

You won't believe it, but he stopped going to work after Aaron was born.

"Money doesn't grow on trees, Jack!" I lashed out at him. "We have to feed our kids, buy diapers, and pay the rent… My salary alone won't be enough!"

"Come on, babe," Jack said non-seriously. "The work was pretty draining, and aren't you happy I can help you with the kids? I can take over the house chores, and you can maybe take up another job?"

You must be thinking: "Well, if he could take over the house chores, why not?" But I was Jack's wife. I knew him inside out, and I knew he was lying.

After I took up another job, he started leaving the kids with the neighbors and disappeared for hours at bars, and one time, I caught him drinking in broad daylight at home.

The loving Jack was gone, vanished into thin air. He didn't love our children or me. So one night, I decided enough was enough, and I didn't want him around my children or me any longer. But fate made things worse for me.

"PREGNANT? AGAIN?" Jack was furious when he discovered I was pregnant with our fourth child. But it wasn't just the pregnancy that made him upset.

I had received numerous complaints from Ethan's school about him misbehaving with other children and being less attentive. Our second son, John, experienced the same thing, and they were both diagnosed with ADHD. They were hyperactive children who required more love and care than ever.

That's when Jack ended it all. "I can't be a part of this mess anymore! I'm done with your mad children and you! It's over, Connie!"

Jack left the house that night, and months later, we were divorced. I was left alone with my children—Ethan, John, Aaron, and baby Keith. Life was not the best, but my children needed me, and I couldn't think about anything else.

I asked my neighbors for help, and I joined a community where I met other women like me, and they all helped me. I once ended up in a hospital because I was burned out, but those women I had met extended a helping hand. They looked after my children and me.

So while the journey was tough, heartbreaking at times, and scary too, I did it. My children and I did it. Sadly, Aaron and Keith turned out to be like their brothers, and they, too, were hyperactive children with ADHD. My experience with my first two boys helped, and we somehow made it.

The boys grew up healthy and were well-educated. I had a good job, too, by then. Then, one day, a storm arrived to devastate our peaceful existence.

One evening, the boys and I were having dinner when the doorbell rang. The boys had settled across different parts of the country but were home together that day.

I walked to the front door and gasped as I opened it. 18 years later, Jack stood in my doorway, and he looked nothing like before.

Before I could say anything, he dropped to his knees and began begging me for help. "Help me, Connie," he said. "Please!"

So here he was, the deadbeat father of my children… begging me for help. The boys joined me at the door, and Jack began pleading with them too.

"Boys, I'm back! Your father is here for you! I would love to reunite with my family! I'm a changed man, Connie. I really am," he said.

Jack looked poor, like a homeless man. His clothes were soiled, and he looked like he hadn't eaten in days.

The boys slammed the door in his face and didn't even let him enter. But I… I'm not sure if that was the right thing to do.

God forbid, but what would you do in my situation? Would you forgive Jack in the name of humanity and give him another chance? Would my boys, who grew up missing their father, have a change of heart even if Jack was indeed a changed man? Should we embrace that deadbeat man for his sake?

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