A pregnant mother of three needs to sell her stroller to feed her three children after she was abandoned by her husband.

Anne Sargent sat on her kitchen floor and cried. It was past midnight, and it was the only time she could allow herself to show her pain — when her three children were asleep upstairs.

Anne felt the baby move and placed a tender hand on her belly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to her unborn child. “I’m doing my best, but it’s just not good enough…”

Just two months ago, Anne had been a radially happy wife and mother, confidently expecting the birth of her fourth child, and confident in her place in the world and her husband’s love. That woman was gone.

Derek had come home one night and told her he was leaving, just like that. “But why?” asked Anne. “I don’t understand, I thought we were happy!”

“YOU were happy!” Derek cried. “YOU, not me! All you did was have babies and fuss over them, now there’s one more on the way!”

“But you WANTED children!” Anne protested. “You were happy every time I was pregnant…”

A family is built on understanding and mutual respect.
“Happy?” screamed Derek. “Happy that you gave all your love and attention to the kids? All I was to you was a paycheck! Well, that’s OVER!”

So three months after Anne announced her fourth pregnancy, Derek was gone. Anne immediately went out and found herself a part-time job at a local grocery store.

The owner would have been willing to give her a full-time job, but for that, Anne would have needed to pay a sitter for her three boys and that would have consumed most of her salary, so she carefully stretched her salary. But even with the child support check Derek sent, it just wasn’t enough.

Anne started selling some antique china she’d inherited from her grandmother and that paid for the utilities for a few months. Then she sold a silver brush-and-mirror set she’d had since she was a little girl, and that paid for groceries. Little by little, as her belly grew, Anne sold her treasures to keep her family safe and fed.

Then one day, there was nothing left to sell except bric-a-brac. Anything of greater value was gone. Anne looked at the old stroller she’d brought up from the cellar.

It had been hers when she was a baby and had been used by each of her children in turn. It was very old, probably from the sixties, but it was in mint condition.

She ran her hand over the roses painted on the side and bit back her tears. She needed it for the new baby, but she needed the money even more.

She thought about getting a good price for it down at the flea market. Vintage items were always popular… And so she took the stroller to the flea market, and one of the dealers gave her $50 for it. Not much at all, but every cent helped.

Anne walked away, sure she’d never see the stroller again, but she was wrong. Two days later, she opened the front door and saw the stroller on the porch!

There was an envelope inside and Anne opened it and read: “Please call me.” The message was followed by a phone number. Anne called the number ad a woman answered her.

“Hello?” Anne said. “Are you the person who left the stroller? How did you know who it belonged to and where I live?”

“Derek told me,” the woman on the other side said. “I’m Grace Robbs. I think we should meet.”

An hour later, Grace was sitting on Anne’s sofa sipping tea. She was a pretty woman, six or seven years younger than Anne, and she looked very unhappy. Her pale skin was blotched and her eyes were swollen as if she’d been crying.

“How do you know Derek,” Anne asked, even though in her heart she already knew the answer.