The doctor told Mom not to get out of bed and to urinate and defecate in bed, otherwise the baby might not survive. The doctor's tone was stern.
Mom asked, puzzled, "Didn't they say the fetus was healthy? How could it suddenly become so serious?"
She became agitated, "I followed the doctor's instructions to care for the baby and took every injection to maintain it. How could he not survive?"
I was my sister's hope. The doctor said I was never going to survive in the first place and that medication was used to force it.
Mom was furious and scolded me again. She called me a loser and a worthless person. But soon she had no time for me.
My sister fell ill and was admitted to the ICU. But Mom, despite the doctor's advice, got out of bed. My parents watched my sister through the glass door. Mom was grief-stricken and her grief directly affected me, but I felt only annoyance. After all, I was just an innocent baby. I didn’t want to live for my sister.
Mom couldn't bear to see my sister lying sick in the hospital bed. She frantically grabbed the doctor and asked, "Can we do a C-section now? My daughter can't wait!"
The doctor was shocked by this crazy decision. He quickly dissuaded her, "The child's lungs aren't fully developed yet. A C-section now would have a very low chance of survival."
A flicker of hesitation flashed in my mother's eyes, but she didn't want to care anymore. All she had eyes for was my sister.
"It's none of your business whether the child lives or dies. Even if she dies, I won't hold you doctors responsible. I just want my daughter to be safe! That's his only purpose in life!" She poked her belly hard, as if to emphasize something.
My father held her, preventing her from hurting herself. What a wonderful, magnificent motherly love. If it weren't for my sacrifice... I became even more determined not to be born. I should hurry up and get back in line. Maybe I could be reborn as a better child.
After the doctor and my father's persuasion, my mother gave up the decision to have an immediate cesarean section. She was so nervous that she checked the fetal heart rate monitor every hour to make sure it was within normal limits.
This significantly delayed my death. I tried to strangle myself with the umbilical cord, but the machine next to me started blaring warnings.
"Fetal heart rate is dropping, fetal oxygen deprivation, prepare for surgery."