The Intertwined Hatred, Never
Meeting Again
After my third stillbirth, I hemorrhaged badly,
a consequence of the emotional rollercoaster
I was on.
John went up to the church that morning, lit candles, and said a prayer for me.
I woke up in the hospital bed after the surgery and was about to ring for the nurse.
That’s when I overheard John talking to the
doctor outside my room.
“John, this is your and Sarah’s third child.
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Even the strongest woman couldn’t bear
losing three children!”
“Ashley said she needed a baby’s heart for
some experimental treatment, and you…you sacrificed your own children for her? You’re
insane!”
“I promised Ashley I’d cure her. Once she’s better, Sarah and I will have a healthy baby. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to Sarah, treating her right…‘
My hand trembled as I held onto the bedsheet.
So, my children’s lives were nothing more
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than medicine for Ashley.
Now that fate had revealed the truth, I
wouldn’t be fooled by John again.
“These three stillbirths, caused by the
medication, have severely damaged Sarah’s
body. Are you not worried about whether she
can handle another pregnancy?”
“She’s your wife, John! This is incredibly
cruel to her. How do you expect her to cope
with the loss of all those babies?”
John impatiently interrupted the doctor.
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“Enough. I only asked for your help because I
consider you a friend. This is my family
matter, I don’t need you lecturing me.”
“Just make sure Sarah gets the best
medication and recovers quickly so she can
get pregnant again.”
The doctor sighed, a look of pity on his face.
“Sarah’s been pregnant for three consecutive years. Coupled with this hemorrhage, she
needs at least a year to recover before trying to conceive again.”
“Ashley can’t wait a year. I don’t care what methods you use, I want Sarah pregnant as
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soon as she’s discharged!”
John’s gaze was firm, leaving no room for
argument.
The doctor glanced at my chart as he left, a flicker of sympathy in his eyes.
“John, we’ve all seen how much Sarah has given you over the years. How could you…? Forget it. Think it through, John. Don’t regret this later.”
“Just go and get the medication ready.”
John pushed the door open, and I quickly closed my eyes.
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He placed one hand over the IV line, warming
the cold fluid with his body heat.
With his other hand, he held his phone and
sent a voice message to Ashley.
“Ashley, did you receive the medicine? Take
care of yourself. Don’t worry about the
medicine; I promised to cure you, and I won’t
break my promise.”
I fought back the tears.
The love I thought I had was nothing but a lie.
John’s sudden proposal.
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It was all because Ashley was sick and
needed the “medicine.”
We got pregnant soon after the wedding. The
checkups were all normal, but then I went into
premature labor in the seventh month,
delivering a stillborn baby.
I was consumed by guilt and grief, and John
held me close, kissing and comforting me.
“Honey, it’s okay. We’re young; this baby will
come back to us.
“The most important thing is for you to rest
and recover.”
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With his support, I pulled myself together and
emerged from the darkness.
But a year later, I delivered another stillborn
baby in the eighth month. The doctor said I
was just unlucky.
John pretended to comfort me.
He said we would definitely have a healthy
baby next time.
And now, history had repeated itself.
Three years of guilt, self–blame, and fear.
All for a lie concocted to cure Ashley.
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I slowly opened my eyes.
John’s concerned face came into view.
“Honey, you’re awake! Are you feeling
unwell?”
“Do you need me to call the doctor? Is your
incision still hurting?”
This scene had played out three times now.
John’s acting was getting better and better.
If I hadn’t overheard the truth, I would have
been fooled again.
L
I touched my flat stomach.
“I lost the baby again, John. Let’s not try for
another one.”
Panic flashed across John’s face.
He quickly pulled a St. Christopher medal
from his pocket and placed it in my hand.
“Honey, I went to church this morning and
prayed for this for you and the baby. It will
protect you both.”
“Let’s not give up, okay? The next baby will be healthy.”
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I stared into his eyes.
“John, my body can’t take it anymore.”
