This is a story about four young professionals, trying to figure out a modern solution to an ancient problem.
In the Bible, King Solomon was famously faced with a nigh-impossible case. Two women both claimed they were the mother of a baby boy. They’d given birth at roughly the same time, but one child had died. Each was now accusing the other of stealing the live infant.
Calling for a sword, Solomon craftily declared there was only one solution: divide the child and give half to each woman. Immediately, one of the women fell to her knees, saying she renounced her claim. She would rather the child was brought up by someone else than see it die as the result of Solomon’s brutal justice. Solomon then ordered that the baby be given to her, as she had just proved herself the true mother.
Whatever this tells us about standards of transparency and openness in the family courts circa 900 BC—what would Solomon have done if neither woman had cried out, or both did? Carried out his original judgment, presumably—it speaks to an ancient truth: Our children mean more to us than we do ourselves.
But what if you are suddenly told that the child you are bringing up—the child you have fed, bathed, played with, taught the letters of the alphabet to, parented for two whole years—isn’t yours? What if you discovered that your child had been mistakenly switched with someone else’s at birth?
That is what happened to my partner and me…
29
PETE
“OH, PETE. PETEY PETEY Petey.”
It was Miles, calling on my mobile. I’d emailed him my article, with a request for a couple of quotes. But I could tell from his tone he wasn’t happy.
“It’s only a first draft, obviously,” I said. “If there’s anything you don’t want me to use, just say.”
There was a short silence. “It’s not right. None of it. I’m sorry, Pete.”
“In what way?” I said, confused. “I mean—it’s true, isn’t it? We are working things out between us.”
“Of course. But eyes on the prize, yes? Think how this is going to read to whoever’s given the job of working out how big a check they should be writing us. This looks like mitigation, Pete. Instead of mental distress and anguish, everyone’s getting along like one big happy family. The way this is written, you’d think we should be paying them.”
“Ah.” I hadn’t thought of it like that. “So you don’t think I should write anything?”
“I’m not saying that. In fact, a newspaper article could provide us with a very good paper trail. But you need to recast it. Basically, ever since I knocked on your door, your life’s been a living hell, yes? Every time you look at Theo’s sweet little face, you find yourself staring into another man’s eyes. Your family’s been violated and your relationship with your child upended—”
“Hang on,” I said anxiously. “Stuff hangs around online forever these days. I wouldn’t want Theo to read it one day and think I found it difficult to love him.”
“Fair enough,” Miles allowed. “But there might be other ways. You mentioned that Maddie experienced mental health issues after the NICU. Maybe the shock of all this has brought some of her symptoms back.”
“I’ll have to ask her,” I said. “I have a feeling she might not be too keen on that.”
“Well, tell her it could be worth an extra half mil. That should be enough to convince her.”
30
Case no. 12675/PU78B65, Exhibit 18B, attachment sent by Peter Riley to several newspaper feature editors.
This is a story that will strike fear into the heart of every parent.
This is a story about two broken families, who, just when they were finally recovering from tragedy, heartbreak, and mental illness, were dealt a fresh blow of unimaginable horror.
Because the shocking truth is that, at any moment, a stranger could knock on your door and announce that the child you have fed, bathed, played with, taught the letters of the alphabet to, parented for two whole years, isn’t yours. And everything you thought you knew about your family could be blown apart in an instant.
I know, because that is what happened to my partner and me…
31
PETE
I REWROTE THE PIECE the way Miles had suggested. It wasn’t as good—if I’m honest, part of my motivation for doing an article in the first place had been to celebrate the way we were all dealing with this: It was two fingers up to people like Jack Wilson who thought cynicism and distrust were the