Newborn Baby Cries All Day No Matter What Parents Do, after a While They Check His Crib – Story of the Day
I came back from work to a house filled with the sound of my baby son’s cries. My wife had exhausted all means to soothe him, yet nothing had succeeded. Eager to help, I went to check the crib, only to be met with a shocking discovery.
An ear-splitting wail echoed through the house as I entered from the garage. The cry’s inconsolable heartache and raw desperation sent shivers down my spine. I had never realized a baby could sound like that.
“Abby?” I set my laptop bag down on the hall table and jogged to the kitchen in search of my wife.
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There she was, sitting at the kitchen island with her head in her hands. “Oh, honey,” I said as I turned off the stove plate. “How long has Logan been crying like that?”
Abby looked up at me. Her face crumpled, and her lower lip wobbled. Breathless sobs shook her body.
“All day,” she wept. “He’s been crying all day, and I’ve tried everything! His diaper is clean, he’s eaten, I’ve bathed him and burped him.” She reached for the roll of paper towels and blew her nose. “I took his temperature… I don’t know what to do anymore! Why won’t he stop crying?”
“Come.” I offered Abby my hand. “We’ll go together and see if we can’t figure out what the little guy wants.”
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Abby blew her nose and let me lead her to the nursery.
“Hey, Logan,” I called as I approached the crib. The solid wooden end hid the baby from view. “It sounds like you and Mama have been having a really bad day, little man. Maybe Daddy can figure out a way to help you both, huh?”
But before I went to the crib, I noticed it was still bright, so I pivoted to close the blinds in his nursery. The crying didn’t stop in the darkness, though, so I started humming something soothing. Checking the temperature crossed my mind. It felt normal to me, but Logan could’ve been uncomfortable all day.
Or maybe, he just needed a distraction. I decided to tire him with a game of peek-a-boo, so I put my hands over my eyes as I took the final step toward the crib.
“Where’s my little nugget?” I asked cheerfully. I flipped my hands open and cried: “There he is!”
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But all I saw in the crib was a dictaphone and a note. Logan was gone.
I reached out in a daze, grabbing a folded piece of paper and pressing the stop button on the dictaphone. Logan’s cries were immediately cut short.
“What did you do?” Abby called from behind me. “How’d you get him to stop crying like that?”
I picked up the note with shaking fingers. I was only dimly aware of Abby coming to stand beside me. She spoke to me and shook me by the shoulder, but I was staring at the note in my hand. There was no telling how long I stood there before Abby pried the page from my fingers and flipped it open.
“I warned you that you’d regret being rude to me. If you want to see your baby again, leave $200,000 in the luggage storage lockers near the pier. If you go to the police, you’ll never see him again.”
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“Oh my God!” Abby gasped. “What does it mean? Was I rude to someone? Were you? Who would kidnap Logan?”
My mind raced back to the janitor at the maternity hospital. I remembered an incident with a bear-shaped pot I had bought for Abby, and how it shattered when I tripped over his broom.
My temper flared, and the words I hurled at him now haunted me. He had warned, “You’ll regret it!”
“We’ll have to go to the police, honey,” I found myself saying, breaking from my thoughts. “It must be him!”
“What? The note says we’ll never see Logan again if we go to the police, Walter. We should just pay the ransom!”
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“We don’t know if he’ll return Logan if we do that. Think about it, honey. This guy is a janitor… there’s no way he’d know if we went to the police, and since we know where he works, they might be able to go straight to the maternity hospital, arrest him, and bring Logan home to us.”
Abby nodded in agreement but started biting her nails. As we parked outside the station, ready to step out, my phone buzzed with a message.
“This is your first and last warning. If you enter that police station, your kid’s going into the bay. Get the money to the location mentioned below.”
Abby gasped as she read over my shoulder, and I scanned the crowd, trying to spot the kidnapper among the many faces. It seemed the only way to get Logan back now was to comply and pay the ransom.
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I decided to head to the bank immediately, but Abby unexpectedly threw up on the steps of the police station and was on the verge of doing so again. I needed to take her home.
“Don’t hate me for it, honey, but that’s the best for you,” I told her. She didn’t protest.
“Fine… But Walter… does that kidnapper even know about caring for a newborn?” Her voice cracked, and she dissolved into tears.
Somehow, I gathered myself and drove to the bank after leaving Abby at home. Upon withdrawing the money, I went to the storage locker the kidnapper had mentioned and placed the money inside.
The area was crowded, making it impossible to spot the kidnapper, but I was certain he was watching me. So, I returned to my car, drove a short distance away, and parked with a view of the lockers. It wasn’t long before I saw the janitor.
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He opened the locker, and I sat up straighter, only for a tourist group to block my view.
“Move it!” I snapped under my breath.
The agonizing minutes stretched as the tourists slowly moved past. By the time the last few people cleared the area, my heart sank—the janitor had vanished.
Barely allowing myself to breathe, I scanned the crowd for that distinctive flashy shirt he wore, something out of a hippie-themed store. There! A surge of relief hit me as I saw him crossing the road, carrying the bag of money I had placed in the locker.
I jumped out of my car and followed him. He led me around, past restaurants and museums, and finally into a bus station, heading towards another row of lockers.
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The janitor placed the bag inside one of them. When he turned, I was on him, pinning him against the lockers.
“Where is my son?” I demanded, my fists tightening on his hippie shirt. “I’ve done everything you asked, you jerk; now return Logan to me!”
“Look, I was offered $100 to collect the package and then drop it off here,” the man pleaded. “I don’t know about your son!”
“Don’t you dare lie!”
“I’m not! Some guy paid me to deliver the package! I ran into him in the parking lot after work one day, but he was standing with the light behind him, so I didn’t see his face. I have two kids of my own. I’d never hurt someone else’s child.”
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Looking into his eyes, something told me he wasn’t lying. I let him go and opened the locker, only to find it empty, save for a hole cut in the back.
***
I didn’t know how to break the news to Abby. Logan was our miracle baby. After years of struggle, conceiving him felt like a blessing. And now, I had lost our only chance to get him back.
As I entered our home, a deep sense of unease settled over me. Abby wasn’t in any of the rooms downstairs, so I made my way upstairs to our bedroom, only to find that all her things were gone.
At first, I suspected she might have been kidnapped, too. I called her countless times, but she never answered. Then it hit me—the kidnapper wouldn’t have taken all of Abby’s belongings. Even her hand lotion was missing.
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It all made sense now; her sudden sickness and insistence on paying the ransom. She was involved, but was she alone? The only comforting thought was that the ransom money was fake. I was determined to get my son back.
I drove to the maternity hospital, looking for someone who could help me reach Abby. Near the vending machine, I found a doctor.
“Hi,” I approached him. “I hope you can help me. I need someone to call my wife—”
“I’m not a phone service,” the doctor replied sharply.
“You don’t understand. I’m willing to pay you handsomely for your assistance, doctor, and your silence.”
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After explaining my situation and what I needed him to say to Abby, I showed the doctor the dollar bills in my wallet. He agreed to help and led me to a nurse’s station on the second floor and dialed Abby’s number.
“Good morning, Mrs. Taylor; this is Dr. Jones from the maternity hospital. I’m calling to inform you that we just discovered something very serious in one of the routine tests we performed on your son after he was born. He needs to come in for treatment immediately,” the doctor said, sticking to the script.
Abby’s response was inaudible from where I stood, but I could imagine her panic and confusion.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t discuss the details over the phone. All I can say for now is that he has a rare genetic condition. I’m sure he does seem fine now, but that could change at any moment. He’s at a higher risk for several life-threatening conditions. You really need to bring him in today, Mrs. Taylor.”
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After ending the call, Dr. Jones turned to me with a thumbs-up. Then, he held out his hand, his fingers wriggling expectantly for his payment.
I paid the doctor and descended the stairs, meandering around the hospital as I tried to gather my thoughts. My phone’s ring cut through the silence. It was Abby.
“You have some nerve to phone me after what you did,” I answered, my voice cold. “Where’s Logan? I demand you bring him back.”
“Says the man who doesn’t even care enough about him to pay the ransom!” Abby’s voice cracked through the phone, shrill with accusation. “That money was all fake, you tight-fisted jerk. Logan needs to see a doctor urgently, and I can’t take him because of you. Where’s the real money, Walter?”
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“In my account, where it’s been all along. What’s wrong with Logan, or is this just another scheme to get my money?”
Her swearing was followed by sobs. “I told you; he’s sick! You’ve got to send me money so he can receive treatment. He’ll die without it.”
“I won’t let my son die! I’ll pay,” I responded and hung up before bursting into angry sobs.
After regaining my composure, I transferred the money through my app, hoping to end this nightmare.
When I saw my little brother, James, walk into the hospital with Abby and Logan in his arms, my world both collapsed and rebuilt itself in a single moment. Abby was talking to the receptionist, oblivious to what was about to unfold.
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It seemed like everything was moving in slow motion as the police officers and FBI agents came forward and surrounded my brother and Abby. I had tipped them off earlier.
“You’re under arrest for kidnapping!” one of the agents announced.
Abby’s defensive shriek tore through the lobby. “My son is sick! He needs to see a doctor!”
“No, he isn’t,” I intervened, my voice steady as I moved closer. “There’s nothing wrong with Logan at all.”
Abby’s eyes, filled with fear and confusion, suddenly burned with anger as she lunged at me, only to be restrained by the police. Both she and James were arrested, leaving me to embrace Logan.
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“You think you’ve won? Logan isn’t even yours! You couldn’t get me pregnant, remember? But whatever’s wrong with you clearly doesn’t run in the family!” Abby’s venomous words cut through the air.
I turned to James, who couldn’t bring himself to meet my gaze. The betrayal was more painful than I could have imagined. Yet, holding Logan, none of that mattered.
“My name is on his paperwork. He’s my son, no matter what!” I declared defiantly. “I will watch him grow up while you two rot behind bars!”
With Logan safe in my arms, I walked away, determined to leave the pain behind.
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