The waitress brought us our drinks as my partner Ryan and I relaxed on the pristine beaches of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. We have been together for about three years now and have been talking about getting married. Neither of us wants children. In fact, Ryan has undergone a vasectomy which assures me that he really does not want to be a father.
That's lovely.
I can be sure that what happened with my first husband will not happen again.
You see, about seven years ago, I met George. He and I dated for about two years. I made it quite clear as soon as we were committed to each other, that I do not want kids. He told me he was on the fence about it, and sometimes had thoughts of becoming a father. I suppose this should have been a red flag. However, I was rather taken with him and soon we were married.
About three months after our wedding, I found out that I was pregnant.
I panicked. I just wasn't ready for motherhood. I didn’t know if I ever would be. I wanted to abort.
However, George was desperate to be a father. He begged not to have an abortion. He promised me that he would shoulder half of the parental duties. That I wouldn't have to compromise my career. Both his family and mine pleaded with me to have the baby. They told me that as soon as I held my child in my hands, I would immediately feel my "motherly instincts" take over.
To my lasting regret, I caved.
Childbirth was the most excruciating experience I've ever had. It was the kind of pain I wouldn't wish on an enemy.
I was told that when I held my child in my hands, I would fall in love with him. But when I held my son, the only emotion I felt was disgust. I didn’t want to touch him or even look at him. As I breastfed him, I wanted to jump out of the hospital room's window.
But I still tried to be a good mother and to take care of my baby.
George did keep his promise. For about a month. After that, he began doing less and less around the house. Three months after giving birth, I went back to work. Now I had to be a leader at the office, and a mom when I got home. While George was living his life just as he did before I gave birth. He would go out with his friends, have fun and maybe feed the baby once in a while. Even that, he did begrudgingly.
Our sex life was pretty much nonexistent now.
We fought almost every day. I would remind George of his promises of doing 50% of the childcare, and he would roll his eyes and tell me to get off his back. I would tell him to show some decency and take care of the son HE wanted, and he would look at me as though I had lost my mind.
I began to resent and even hate George. He had betrayed me. He violated my bodily autonomy by manipulating me into having his child, even though I didn't really want to. And then refused to do his share to take care of him.
My in laws simply told me to do my duties as a wife and mother.
I felt utterly trapped. I began to wish I had never met George. And although I didn't blame my son for any of this, I couldn't love him. Every time I looked at him I was reminded of everything I had to give up. For a child I didn't even want. Every day, I would regret bringing him into the world. I truly wished I hadn't.
Then one night, during one of mine and George's arguments, the baby started screaming.
George told to stop whining and go do my duty as a mother.
I shot back at him, "you wanted him, you take care of him!", before going into the bedroom and closing the door behind me. A minute later, George yelled at me to tell me he was taking his son for a drive, before exiting the house.
The house was finally quiet, and I fell asleep.
George and his son never came home.
As it turned out, his car had veered off of the street and fell into the lake. They both drowned.
When I was told about this, my tears began to flow immediately.
However, contrary to what the police officers thought, I wasn't crying out of sadness. I was crying out of relief.
The nightmare was over.
When the cops left, I closed the door and took a long look at the empty house. I looked at my son's toys, his diapers, his cot, the baby monitor.... it was all a reminder of a bunch of nonsense that I would never have to put up with again. I looked at my husband's things and thought of all his entitlement, all the screaming matches I'd never have to endure ever again.
I finally had my life back.
I did need to keep up appearances though. I played the grieving mother and wife for the world to see. But my heart wouldn't stop singing. I felt sorry for George's parents, but only until I remembered that they were among the people who coerced me into having a child I didn't want.
I began looking for jobs in different cities, and finally about eight months after the accident, I was offered a well paying position three states away.
I left town and never looked back. That life was now a closed chapter.
Ever since then, my life has been wonderful. I've had a lot of success in my work, I've travelled and of course, I've found an amazing partner like Ryan.
I'm able to do all the things that I've always wanted to but couldn't have if George and his son were still here.
No. Contrary to what some of you might think, I had no hand in the deaths of George and his son. It really was an accident. Though I didn't love them, I would never wish harm on them. And I do feel sorry for the innocent baby whose life ended before it could even begin. If reincarnation is real, I hope he had been reborn and has loving parents who actually want to raise him.
However, I do not miss them. Their deaths set me free. I was given a second chance at life, and I will not waste it feeling guilty over something that wasn't even my fault.
Would you really call me a bad person?
