After my second stillbirth, my mother-in-law barged into the hospital room and hissed, “You’re a curse to this family.” My husband never showed up—not a call, not a message.
That was the moment I knew I was done with him.
While unpacking at my parents’ house, I noticed a folder labeled with my name. At first, I thought it was paperwork from the hospital—but curiosity made me open it.
Inside were Alex’s full medical files and documents from a fertility clinic.
My hands trembled so hard the papers slipped from my fingers and scattered across the carpet. One page stood out: a genetic screening report.
Alex carried a rare dominant condition known to cause severe pregnancy complications—often ending in miscarriage or stillbirth.
