Years after tying the knot, my in-laws' patience was running thin because I hadn't gotten pregnant.
Countless doctor's appointments later, I was finally expecting.
When I shared the news with my husband, he turned stone-cold.
He accused me of having an affair, attacked me, and threw me out with nothing but the clothes on my back.
Later, I discovered he was sterile, with merely a one percent chance of fathering a child.
But why were you so sure the baby wasn't yours?
*****
*****
The instant I saw the test results, tears streamed down my face.
Five long years. At last, I was carrying my own child.
I recall resenting my in-laws' nagging when we first started trying, secretly wishing to delay pregnancy a few more years.
Ironically, my grumbles became a reality.
The next five years shifted from relaxed to frantic, from joint doctor visits to solo trips.
The ordeal for this child was beyond words.
Despite being told my health was fine, pregnancy remained elusive.
My mother-in-law, convinced of her foresight, would taunt me, calling me a "barren hen."
I gazed down at my barely-there baby bump in disbelief that I was indeed pregnant.
Touching my belly gently, my eyes welled up with tears; if not for the doctor nearby, I would have cried right then and there.
"Mom, I'm pregnant! You're going to be a grandma!"
My mom was the first to hear the good news. Over the phone, her voice was full of joy, urging me to take it easy, as she and Dad were on their way to pick me up.
I wanted to share the joy with my in-laws too, not out of affection, but to prove my body was capable.
However, after previous fights over the pregnancy, they had blocked all contact with me.
Oh well, revenge can wait. If they don't come to apologize, they won't meet their grandchild.
2Talking to my in-laws was out of the question, but I could still share the news with my husband.
I called him again, giddy with excitement, anticipating his joy.
"What, you're pregnant?"
Lost in my own happiness, I missed his peculiar tone and continued to gloat.
"Of course! Didn't I send you the test results? There's no mistake. Or did you give up hope? Guess I surprised you with how capable your wife is."
"Yeah, what a shocker."
His laughter was cold, his voice detached as he told me to rush home, claiming he'd be right there.
Typical! He'd always avoided hospital visits, citing job concerns, but now he's suddenly proactive.
I met my parents, elated, even grabbing a coffee before they arrived. Blissfully, I headed home, watching him smile as he said goodbye to my parents.
And then.
As soon as the elevator door closed, he snapped, grabbing my hair and slamming my head against it.
My scream was met with a flurry of slaps that left me reeling.
He dragged me to the bathroom, thrusting my head into the toilet.
The bleach mixed with the sewage stench filled my senses, choking me, and stealing my breath.
He held me down methodically, letting me up only when I seemed about to pass out, then submerging me again whenever I caught a breath.
"This is what you get for betraying me, you cheater! Thought you could make a fool of me? Go to hell!"
In the end, I was barely conscious, discarded by him.
It seemed to make him pleased. He kicked my head against the corner and walked away in disgust.
3I regained consciousness still in the bathroom.
Drenched and bloodied, with my stomach painfully contracting.
As I stood up, the bloodstains on the wall reminded me of the previous night's horror.
I had to call the police.
Driven by instinct, I dialed 911.
What's next after calling for help? Preserve the scene, and save the evidence.
Trembling, I snapped photos of the blood on the wall and my injuries, lifting my clothes to document the bruises.
My leg throbbed to the bone as if broken, the sharp pain overshadowing all else.
Lying on the floor all night in the heat, I felt nauseous, my stomach in knots, fearing critters might have scurried over me.
Stop, that thought alone made me want to throw up.
I propped myself up against the toilet, clutching my roiling stomach, desperate to use it but I couldn't.
I feared it'd clear the fingerprints on it.
I endured until the police arrived.
Thankfully, a female officer was there. I clung to her, pleading to use a public restroom.
4I passed out again.
The officer who helped me to the hospital said I fell due to standing up too quickly.
The hospital staff noticed my condition and fought to save my unborn child.
I managed a weak smile.
This was the same hospital where my infertility journey began.
Without their reminder, I had almost forgotten about my pregnancy.
Another doctor came in, handed some documents to the officer, and asked me a few questions.
My vision was blurry, and without my glasses, I struggled to see or hear clearly, responding slowly to his inquiries.
"We need to check her hearing and vision and assess for any damage. I'll also order a CT scan to evaluate potential brainstem injuries."
5Once my parents arrived, the police couldn't stay with me around the clock. The female officer left with the medical report.
My mom gripped my hand, her eyes red with fury as she cursed my husband, Steve.
"After all your struggles, he still raised his hand to you? Before, they had the excuse of no grandkids, but now what?"
Memories of his fury and his steadfast belief I cheated flashed through my mind. Why did he have that thought?
Then I thought of my mother-in-law's smug certainty. There was definitely something off.
I balled my fists. I wasn't about to let this slide. He would pay for this assault.
"Mom, we need to file for divorce. Let's distance ourselves from that jerk first, then sort out the details."
"No, how can you just divorce like that?"
Her response shocked me, and she quickly tried to recover.
"I mean, maybe there's a misunderstanding, and have you thought about life after divorce?"
Life after divorce? I'm capable, employed, and independent. Nothing could be worse than staying tied to an abuser.
I looked at her sadly. You're my mom. Why does appearance matter more than your daughter's life?
Maybe she's just stuck in her ways, struggling to adapt.
With my mobility impaired, where could I hide if he became enraged over the divorce?
I had thought having a happy family and loving parents was enough, despite not having children according to plan.
Now, it's clear I've been on my own the whole time.
I sighed, resigned yet determined, for my sake and for the child I might yet have to forsake.
"Fine, no divorce for now. But I've reported him. If he doesn't suffer any consequences, he'll think he can hit me whenever he wants. You go to the station, and give your statements. We'll handle the rest after I recover."
"I knew you'd have a plan. Don't worry, sweetie. We won't let them get away with this. Your dad and I will demand an explanation from his mother, ensure they don't dare mistreat you again."
6Mom offered to stick around and take care of me, which really moved me. I sent her some money for meals—she's doing so much already, she deserves to treat herself.
But barely half a day later, her overprotectiveness was getting to me. She hovered over the doctors during their rounds, bombarding them with questions and insisting they guarantee the assault hadn't harmed the baby.
The doctor's patience wore thin, and he laid it out straight.
"Are you actually her mother? Normally, someone with fractures and potential brain injuries needs rest. Pregnancy itself drains a lot of energy, let alone coupled with injuries. Are you overestimating what her body can handle?"
"There's no rule that says a woman who's had trouble conceiving can't get pregnant again. Why the rush to have kids when she's so young? Maybe life's been too smooth and she's looking for a challenge?"
Mom finally let the doctor go after a bit of grumbling.
I sighed. Mom's life has been pretty cushioned. Married straight out of college, with housekeepers and nannies doing all the heavy lifting. Having me was her major life event.
Her tactless nature isn't new—usually, I'm the one cleaning up her messes. But this time, I just didn't have the energy.
I planned to just suck it up and suggested that I handle talking to the doctor, but she kept accidentally hurting my broken leg.
I didn't blame her because she'd never done such things during these decades.
Enough was enough. I used the excuse of needing her to back me up at my in-laws' to send her away and hired a professional caregiver.
With Mom's brand of caregiving, I was risking an upgrade on my medical report.
Getting her out of the way was also part of a plan she'd never agree to.
7No sooner had Mom left than I asked the doctor about terminating the pregnancy.
It wasn't easy conceiving this baby, but I knew I couldn't keep it.
A child should be a bond between loving parents, not just a tether to a troubled marriage.
Steve clearly isn't husband material, and I've lost all desire to continue this facade with him.
It's better to end things now, before any deeper attachments form, than to regret bringing a child into this mess.
Moreover, I can't guarantee I won't resent the child after it's born. If I'm not ready to love unconditionally from the start, it's better not to bring a child into the world.
That's fairer to both of us.
"Mrs. Dickens, are you sure about the abortion? Given you and your husband's fertility issues, this might be your only chance at a child."
"I ended up in this hospital because of that man. You think I want to carry his child after all he's done?"
The doctor tried to persuade me again, but I was having none of it. Impatiently, I went to register with another doctor.
I forgot to tell the nurse not to book a specialist—I'd seen every OB-GYN specialist here while trying to conceive.
The general practitioner I ended up with didn't pry about my decision to have an abortion, just offered some advice.
"Given your condition, maybe we should schedule the procedure for just before your discharge. That way, you can head straight home afterward."
I nodded, accepting the suggestion.
My condition wasn't ideal for an abortion right now, and since early-term abortions are less risky, waiting a bit seemed wise.