Man Whose Wife Died at Childbirth Ponders Giving up Baby until He Sees Her Texts with a Friend
“Despite her best efforts, we couldn’t save your wife. She’s gone, sir.” Those horrid words ran through David’s mind several times a day since the birth of his baby, a beautiful daughter, but he couldn’t even look at her after leaving the hospital. He was so destroyed that his dear Joan was no longer alive. Luckily, his mother took over and watched the baby as much as possible. David did the bare minimum, so deep in his grief he couldn’t see anything.
But one day, his mother had enough and ordered him to see a therapist immediately. He agreed and started going to one, working through his despair. Finally, it felt like there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and although the doctor’s words still ran through his mind often, he wasn’t so affected anymore. His mother was proud of him, but David still didn’t dare hold his baby. He was still working through it with a therapist. “Maybe I’ll hold her one day, or perhaps I should just give her up to someone who’d be a better parent,” he thought sometimes, but he shook his head, dispelling that thought quickly.
Today was about something else. He had something else on his mind. It was time to go through Joan’s things, get them sorted, and give some away to charity. He hadn’t even touched her hospital bag since the day he brought it home with the baby. It was too painful, but for the first time in three months, he was finally brave enough. He opened the bag and found her cell phone inside. It had run out of battery during her labor and hadn’t been charged since then. He plugged the phone into the wall, and then he started going through Joan’s clothes.
An hour later, he grabbed the phone again and noticed several missed calls and some messages. At first, some were congratulatory because Joan’s friends knew that she went into labor, but one of her friends, Melissa, continued texting even after the news of her death reached their entire social circle. “I’m not the only one who misses her,” he thought as he browsed through the messages, smiling that his wife had great friends. But something in one of the texts made him frown. “It’s a pity you sacrificed your life,” Melissa wrote.
David didn’t understand. Joan died because of an unexpected complication, but something in that message seemed odd, as if Melissa had known Joan would die in childbirth. He had to find out more, so he scrolled up to the beginning of their conversation. Most of the messages were about Joan’s pregnancy, how excited she was, how fascinating it was, how her baby would be the best, most beautiful in the world. But after several months, the texts took a turn.
“The doctor said something scary,” Joan said.
“What? What’s going on? Are you okay?” Melissa asked, her concern evident in her text.
“They said I have high blood pressure and could develop preeclampsia. Further on, the doctor said I should terminate the pregnancy.”
“No, honey, that’s horrible! But what if you die? What did David say?” Melissa inquired.
“He wasn’t with me. I haven’t told him. He wants a child so bad; we’ve been trying for 10 years, Melissa. I can’t abort this baby. It’s his dream to be a father,” Joan countered.
“Joan, you could die. You wouldn’t want that. He loves you.”
“I know, Mel, but it’s our baby. I love him or her. I’m going to risk it,” his wife said.
David couldn’t believe it. His wife had risked her life despite the doctor’s warnings to please him. It was true, he’d been dying to become a father, and now he felt ashamed he hadn’t touched his baby since the hospital. The rest of the text conversation consisted of Melissa asking Joan if she felt fine. Joan always answered that she felt great, but that the physician said there might not be any symptoms. David couldn’t recall if doctors said anything about preeclampsia, but he stopped listening when they told him his wife was dead.
“What am I gonna do now?” he asked himself, putting down the phone. “Am I going to let my mother raise the baby that Joan sacrificed her life to give me?”
David broke down in tears, but he didn’t drown in self-pity this time. This time, his tears were a release—a thank you to his late wife for her sacrifice and a symbol of determination. He was going to be the best father in the world. Their daughter, Georgina Jones Sanders, was going to grow up surrounded with tons of love and tales of her amazing mother. He was going to be sure of it. He grabbed his own phone and dialed his mother.
“Mom, bring the baby back. I’m ready now.”
“Thank God,” the older woman breathed, almost starting to cry. “Thank you.”
