(I)
My husband, Bryson, and I met through mutual friends, and we were together for four years before we really started trying for children. We stopped using protection, and we really tried to get pregnant. The first time I got pregnant, I was pregnant for two months before it turned into an ectopic pregnancy. One of the worst experiences I had ever been through. I woke up in the middle of the night in agony. There was this excruciating stabbing like pain coming from the area of my left fallopian tube. That pain was unbearable. I cried for my husband, and he rushed me to the hospital. The doctors gave me some medication to stop the pain, and they ran some test to see what was wrong. They told me I was experiencing an ectopic pregnancy, which needed to be removed because if not, it may cost me my life. Ectopic pregnancies are pregnancies where the fertilized egg is not growing in the uterus. The egg is somewhere outside the uterus, and this can cause life-threatening bleeding. I did have surgery to remove the pregnancy, and I was devastated. I was on bedrest for three months and after that, my husband and I started trying again.
They say once you have one ectopic pregnancy, you are more than likely to have more ectopic pregnancies and/or miscarriages. And they were telling the truth. Later that year, I got pregnant again, and a month later, I miscarried. The following year, I got pregnant for the third time, and that pregnancy only lasted a few weeks before I miscarried. After that, no matter how often my husband and I made love, it didn't matter how I switched up my diet or the amount of exercise I did, it didn't matter if I lined up my ovulation days, for the next six years, I would not become pregnant. I was truly getting discouraged.
(II)
I went to a fertility clinic to get tested to see if I could no longer have kids. That fertility specialist, named Dr. Marquette, took a lot of blood and ran seventeen tests. My bill totaled over fifteen hundred dollars. All of that, just for her to tell me that everything came back normal, and she is not seeing what the issue is. She wanted to go back in internally to see with her own eyes if my fallopian tubes were ohkay, but I honestly just didn't want to go through another surgery. I was beginning to feel hopeless. Would I ever have any children of my own?
I did consider the fact that it was my husband parts that had stopped working and not mines, but before I had thrown that very serious, hurtful accusation at my very prideful husband, I wanted to be sure that it really wasn’t me. I decided to have an affair with this guy named Darnell, who I met online. One might say I had become desperate for a child, since I was willing to get pregnant by another man and claim that baby to be my husband’s. I told him I was on birth control, which I was not; therefore, he felt comfortable enough to not use protection. I know it was wrong, but I really wanted a baby, and I was willing to do this in order to get my precious bundle of joy.
After six months of constantly sneaking around with this man, and I was not getting pregnant, I ended the relationship. It meant nothing to me, and he had a purpose he could not fulfil. I did feel bad, because he was extremely heartbroken and it was written all over his face. But I did make it easy for him to walk away by telling him the truth.... well, told him the truth adjacent. I did tell him that I was married, but I also had told him that I was separated. In the end, I told Darnell that we had decided to give our marriage another shot. I was not in love with him, and I certainly didn't like him enough to just up and leave my wonderful marriage. I did not ever tell my husband about it. I stopped seeing Darnell and I wasn't going to ever cheat on my husband again. That was the first and last time I had ever cheated on him, and I only did it in an experimental capacity. Not that, that justifies me cheating, but I was in love with my husband.
(III)
Eventually, my husband and I sat down to talk about our options because he started to get just as frustrated as I was.
“How do you feel about adoption? I am very open to providing for a child who needs a loving family,” he said.
“Don't get me wrong. It would be an amazing thing to be able to give a child who needs a home, a home, but I really want my children to come from us. I want to see our faces in our children,” I responded.
“Well, what about surrogacy?”, he asked.
“That could be cool, implanting my eggs, still fertilized by your sperm, I guess that could work. It's still depressing though because I'll miss out on the whole pregnancy experience. I really wanted to document my belly growth month after month, and I wanted to see what kind of weird, crazy food cravings I would have”, I responded.
“But at least we will have a child with our genes”, he said.
I had suggested we asked my identical twin sister, Sonya, to be the surrogate. Immediately, my husband said no. He always dubbed me the “good” one and her the “evil” one. My sister is one to speak her mind and doesn't hold her breath. She was always ready to roast and always had a major comeback for any insult. And that became their thing. Every time they saw each other, they threw insults. To better describe it, it was more of a “Martain and Pam” type of relationship. She was the outgoing, outspoken one while I was the more laid-back, easy-going one.
I convinced him that we would have absolute certainty that our baby would look like me and him. After extra heavy consideration, and with a few pleas and begs, he agreed that we would talk to her, and we did.
“You know how long we have been trying for a baby and have been very unsuccessful. Well, we started looking into other options, including surrogacy, and we thought you’d be the perfect candidate,” I said to her.
“Wow. That is amazing. I would love to! Wait, bird brains here would be ohkay with this? Having his baby inside of me?”, she asked obnoxiously.
“Well, when you put it like that, you are making me highly reconsider this option,” said my husband.
“No, no, no! No one is reconsidering anything on our end. This is definitely the right move to make, and we will finally have the family we want,” I said to my husband.
Everything was going to fall into place, and my future was beginning to look so much brighter.
(IV)
We went through the whole process of invitro fertilization, including the consultations and medical screenings and eventually, the fertility treatments. I'm sure we were all excited to start this journey, but I was REALLY excited to start this journey. I had wanted a baby for so long and, in nine months, it was finally going to happen. I went with her to every doctor’s appointment, made sure she had a healthy diet, and I stayed on foot duty; giving her foot massages and ice baths when her feet were swollen. Anytime she needed anything, I made sure she had it.
I will admit, I did try to live through her during the entire pregnancy. I did all the things with her I wish I could experience myself. This includes documenting her pregnancy month by month, so I could see the growth of the baby, maternity photoshoots, birthing classes, and eating all of her very weird food cravings with her. On the inside, it hurt deep because I really wish I was capable of carrying my baby to term.
Fast forward to eight months later, the pregnancy is going amazing. She was glowing and looked so beautiful. The time was almost here, so I wanted to take a minute and sit and talk with her to see how she was feeling and if she was ready to give birth. I wanted her to know that I would be there every step of the way, supporting her and holding her hand. I wanted her to know that I am still here with her all the way.
I was truly not prepared for this conversation.
“Hey, you ohkay? Ready for the big day?”, I asked.
“I am actually. I'm really thrilled,” she said nervously.
“Um, ohkay. Then why do you sound like that?”, I asked.
She said, “I have been trying to figure out a way to tell you something for the past four months.”
“What is it?”, I asked.
“I want to keep the baby,” she said to me.
“WHAT!”, I yelled.
“I want to keep the baby,” she repeated.
“NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT!”, I screamed.
“You know how much I always wanted a baby,” I continued, “Why are you saying this?”.
“If I'm being honest, I have been in love with Bryson for the past two years and I want us, as in me, him, and “our” baby, to be a family. I can finally have what you have always had,” she said.
My heart was racing and my head felt like it was going to explode.
“Look sis. I didn't sign anything that said I had to hand the baby over to you after birth, " she said.
“We didn't sign any papers because I didn't think this was something I would have to worry about. You are my sister!”, I cried.
“Well, I don't know what to tell you. All I know, I am having this baby, and I am going to raise this baby into a well-rounded, beautiful individual. Now, I want your support and help when needed in my baby’s life as an auntie, but nothing more,” she said.
I wanted to strangle her so bad. Trying to fully control my anger and sadness in that moment was added to the list of one of the hardest things I ever had to do.
Three weeks later, my sister gives birth to MY baby, a baby girl, Brea. Yes, I did show up to the hospital, mainly wanting to see how beautiful the baby was, and I was also hoping that she would realize how wrong this was. She held, and kiss, and cradled my baby. How could this be happening?
“Can I hold her?”, I asked?
“No. I don't think that's a good idea,” she responded.
“Well, why not?”, I demandingly asked.
“If I let you hold her, I'm not sure you would give her back,” she said.
In all honesty, I'm not sure if she was completely wrong. It would have been very hard for me to give her back to my sister. She was someone I trusted and was the last person on earth I thought would ever do something like this to me. One would say that she was the best option. One would say that she was the safest option. There were absolutely no risks, no cons with all the pros. Literally, no one saw this coming.
She did let my husband hold the baby, and he was able to kiss our baby for me. She still wanted him around and he was allowed to be around the baby. He didn't want to if it meant that she would be around. He hesitated so hard, and he also wanted to snatch the baby and just run out of there. But not only did he know he probably wouldn't get very far with all the hospital security, in reality, it just wasn't safe for a newborn baby.
After their release from the hospital, my husband was allowed to visit the baby anytime he wanted, but I was on a limited basis. My sister felt that the less I saw my baby, the easier it would be for me to move on and accept my “new reality”. In the early stages, I did push my husband to go visit more often than he wanted. Whenever he was there, he would facetime me and I could see our baby. She was so beautiful. I wanted nothing more but to hold her, kiss her and snuggle her. I could not bear loving her from a distance.
I kind of pushed him to keep an eye out on the baby, making sure my sister was treating her right. He was able to be a father to our daughter, while I watch from the sidelines. There really wasn't anything I could do and it was destroying me.
(V)
Fast forward to a year later, I found out that my husband was sleeping with my sister. The conversation that we had really blew my mind.
“How could you?”, I cried.
“I really didn't want to hurt you. I just didn't know how to end things,” he said.
“Why would you do this?”, I asked.
“The honest truth: I want kids, and you cannot give me that. In reality, you were the third party we were communicating through. It was more of a “cut out the middleman and go straight to the source” kind of situation,” he responded.
Talk about brutal. I understand that we never really had a real conversation about the fact that I possibly could not have children, but he had to know that was going to hurt my feelings. Not being able to do the one thing my body was meant to do cut deep. There were times I felt useless when it came to my husband. Feeling like less of a woman is very depressing.
“She’s already pregnant with our second child,” he said.
He talked more after he said that, but I didn't hear anything else. Sounds were coming and going, and my vision was getting very hazy. Next thing I know, I wake up in a hospital bed. Apparently, I passed out, and my husband freaked out and rushed me to the emergency room. I was fine. Eventually, the doctors cleared me and sent me home. But what home? My home isn't a home anymore. I have lost the relationship with my sister. I've lost my baby. I've lost the chance to be a mother. I've lost my husband. My life had fallen apart, and the pieces were all over the place.
Too much to be around on the daily. So, what do I do? I run. I have to be honest with myself and admit the fact that, in reality, it's like I ran away. I didn't want to be in the same city or state with my husband or my sister. I wanted to be far away from them. So, I packed up everything I had, and I left the state. It was a big move, but I really wanted a fresh start. I wanted a new life; therefore, I created one. I changed my name from Samara to Sloan, and I move a crossed the country. I got a job out and as far as my social life, I made friends through work, and my sex life was very active. I frequently had one-night stands since I had sworn off relationships for a while. I was settling in with this new life and persona I had created for myself. I was at peace.
Two years later, I received a phone call from my now ex-husband.
“She’s gone,” he said.
“What?”, I asked.
“She said that motherhood isn't what she thought it would be and that she wished she had a better life,” he said.
He explained that they were having some relationship problems and after he cheated on her a few times, she had a hard time regaining his trust. On top of that, three kids (Brea, Brice, and Bella) later, postpartum depression hit her kind of hard, and she just needed some space, so she left. He said he did not chase her. He wanted to give her time, and he was sure that she would be back by now.
The conversation continued into him talking about what he would tell the kids about their mother. He didn't want to tell them that she left their family. So, he proposed that I temporary step in as their mother while Sonya work through whatever it was, she needed to work through.
“Absolutely not,” I said.
“Please. They would think you are there mother, and let's face it, technically, you are supposed to be there mother”, he said.
I thought about it for a while and honestly, it was the children that made the decision very clear for me. I always wanted a chance to be a mother, and my sister did take that chance away from me. And why would she leave those beautiful babies without a mother?
I decided to go back home temporarily and resume the role of my sister which was a mother to three children. I arrived at the home of my sister and ex-husband and when I walked in the door, the children came running up to me screaming “Mama, Mama!”. They all hugged me so tight, saying how much they missed me and even though I knew they didn't really mean me because of my deception, I was overjoyed. I smiled so big, and tears were rolling from my eyes. I was really excited. I had wanted this for so long and just for a moment, I was finally experiencing motherhood. I prepped meals, I read bedtime stories, I went to football games and gymnastic meets, and I made park visits. I spent the next few months taking care of the children that should have been mine from the beginning. I try not to say that with ill-intent, but sometimes it is hard. How could she take this from me when she knew how desperately I wanted it.
My ex-husband and I even had a moment where we reunited in bed. It was the weekend, and the kids and I had a good day running errands. After I had put the children to bed, my ex-husband had offered me a nightcap. I accepted and we sat on the sofa and talked while we had our drinks. After reminiscing a little, I honestly just said why not. He was my husband at one point and though I was no longer in love, I still loved this man. The night was amazing and just how I remembered. I loved every moment of it.
I kept this charade up for about four months. After asking about any updates on Sonya, my ex-husband confessed to me that he killed my sister.
“I did it for us baby. She ruined our lives and stole our family. Every day here, pretending to be in love with her, my resentment only grew”, he explained, “I had to make you believe it was real and give you plausible deniability.”
As he is literally trying to explain and defend the reason behind him murdering my sister, the room began to spin around me. My pupils felt like they were beyond dilated, and the sound of my heartbeat felt like my heart had slowed down drastically. My head felt like it was spinning in all directions uncontrollably and the room started to turn red. He was really telling me that my sister was dead and by his hands.
As much as I wanted to break down in tears, as much as I wanted to attack my ex-husband and pry my nails down his eye sockets, it took everything in me to hold my composure. I had to play it cool. He thinks he did this for me and “our” family. If he had any suspicion that I was hurt about my sister's death, I feared he may feel unappreciated and he may think that I was ungrateful.
As I was trying to reevaluate my focus, I knew I needed more information.
“Where did you put her body?”, I asked.
“I buried her in the backyard, up under the shed,” he responded.
That was all I needed to know. After that, I threw my arms around his neck, giving him one last nice, big hug. I also hoped that, that small gesture would show him some appreciation so that he’d think that I was on his side.
The next morning, while he was out running errands, I packed up the kids, and I went to the police station.
Long story short, a sting operation was set, and I was able to convince my ex-husband to show me exactly where my sister was buried. The police intercepted and their case was made.
My husband was arrested, and I went through the process of becoming a guardian to all of my sister kids. And yes, I did say my sister kids. They are her children, and I even accepted that fact back when she was alive. I no longer wanted them to call me mother. At this point, it no longer felt right. These children will know me as their “Auntie”, and they will remember their mother.
(VI)
Envy is something I never would have thought my sister had. We always supported each other in whatever endeavors we were invested in and there was never any hostility. I had no idea that she secretly longed for what I had. All this time, she had been plotting on me and my husband, and I gave her a way in.
How am I feeling right now? I would say that if be careful what you wish for was a person, I would be that person. All I wanted most was to be a mother. But not like this. I had finally made peace with the fact that my sister did take my happy ending away, but I never wanted her dead. I did feel like what she had done was wrong and I always knew that karma would eat her alive. I just did not picture it being like this. Now, still mourning her loss, I wish I never even asked her to be my surrogate. She would still be here today, and I wouldn't be the initial cause of my sister's death. Life can change in an instance, and I was not prepared.
