‘I had to take them, mom,’ said my 16-year-old when he came home with newborn twins

“Because no one else will take it,” he cried. “If we don’t, they’ll be split up in foster care. Is that what you want?”

I couldn’t answer, and just I looked at the babies, my son and the woman fighting for her life.

“I need to make a call.”

Then I phoned Derek from the parking lot. He answered, irritated.

“What?”

“It’s Jennifer. We need to talk about Sylvia and the twins.”

Silence. “How do you know?”

“Josh saw you leave. What’s wrong with you?”

“I didn’t ask for this. She said she was on birth control. It’s a mess.”

“They’re your children.”

“They’re a mistake,” he said flatly. “I’ll sign whatever you need. Don’t expect help.”

I hung up.

An hour later, Derek arrived with a lawyer. He signed temporary guardianship papers without looking at the babies. “They’re not my problem anymore,” he said, and left.

Josh watched. “I’ll never be like him,” he whispered.