My husband was supposed to stand by me, but my parents made sure he didn’t. When I couldn’t give him a child, they turned him against me and pushed him to leave. I lost everything—my family, my marriage, my home. When they saw me again, they expected misery. Instead, they were the ones in shock.
My parents always wanted a boy. When I was born, it wasn’t a joyful occasion for them—it was a disappointment.
Nothing I did was ever enough. They constantly demanded more, as if I had to prove my worth just to exist in their world.
When I finally moved out, I thought the weight would lift, but it didn’t. Their voices still echoed in my mind, reminding me that I had to be better, to do more, to make them proud. I still wanted their approval, even though I knew I would never get it.
Then I met Jordan. My parents adored him instantly. He was everything they had ever wanted in a child—except he wasn’t their child. And somehow, they loved him more than they ever loved me.
From the moment we got married, Jordan talked about having a child. He was excited, full of dreams of our future family.
At first, I was excited too. But after a year of nothing but disappointment, my hope faded. I wanted to stop trying.
“Let’s get checked,” Jordan said.
I looked away. “I don’t know. What if we find out something is wrong? I don’t want to hear bad news.”
Jordan pulled me into a hug. His warmth should have comforted me, but it didn’t. “No matter what, we have each other. That’s what matters.”
We took the tests. We met with doctors. I tried to stay hopeful, but dread followed me like a shadow.
Days later, I sat in the doctor’s office, gripping the armrests of my chair. My heart pounded in my ears. The doctor sighed, looking at my chart. “Your test results show diminished ovarian reserve,” he began gently. “It means conceiving naturally will be extremely difficult.”
The world stopped. I stared at him, unable to breathe. My hands went cold.
“But we can consider IVF,” he added. “It might take multiple cycles, but it’s one path we can explore.”
I nodded, but I barely heard him. His words blurred together. I needed to get out of there.
When I got home, I found Jordan in the living room, smiling. “I went to the doctor today,” he said, his eyes bright. “I’m completely healthy!”
I felt something snap inside me. Tears welled up, burning my eyes. My body shook.
Jordan’s face fell. He rushed toward me. “Mila, what’s wrong?” His hands gripped my arms.
I pulled away, covering my face. “The doctor… he said I won’t be able to conceive naturally.” My voice cracked.
Jordan went still. His grip on me loosened. I felt his shoulders tremble. Then I heard him sniff.
He was crying too. For a while, we just stood there, wrapped in silence. When our tears dried, we sat down at the kitchen table.
“So… what do we do now?” Jordan asked.
“The doctor suggested IVF as an option,” I said. “But it’s expensive. And it doesn’t always work on the first try.”
Jordan exhaled. He wiped his face and straightened his shoulders. “Then we’ll save up. We’ll try.”
I wanted to believe him. A few days passed. I was still processing everything. Then my phone rang. I glanced at the screen. My mother.
“Are you infertile?!” she screamed.
My breath caught. My stomach twisted. “What? How do you even know?”
“Jordan told us. How could you?!” Her voice dripped with disgust. “You are a disgrace!” she spat.
My throat burned. “I can’t control this.”
“It would’ve been better if you were born a boy!” she shrieked. “You can’t even be a proper woman! Fulfill your purpose!”
A lump rose in my throat. “So I’m not a woman if I can’t have a child?”
“You’re a joke,” she snapped.
I clenched my teeth. “The doctor said we can have a baby through IVF.”
“A test-tube baby?! That’s disgusting! I’m ashamed to call you my daughter! Jordan deserves better!”
Something inside me broke. Years of pain, rejection, and longing erupted at once. “You know what?! I’m done! I don’t want you or Dad in my life anymore! I’ve spent my whole life trying to please you, but I’ve had enough!”
Silence. Then she let out a bitter laugh. “Good. Now I won’t have to be embarrassed by you anymore.”
The line went dead. I dropped my phone, my hands trembling as a sob ripped from my chest.
How could she be so cruel? I curled up on the couch, crying until I had no tears left.
It hurt. It hurt more than anything. But I knew one thing. I had made the right choice.
When Jordan walked through the door, I didn’t wait. I stepped in front of him. “Why did you tell my parents that I’m infertile?”
Jordan sighed. He set his bag down. “They asked how things were going. What was I supposed to do? Lie?”
I clenched my fists. “You didn’t have to say anything! This is personal!”
“They’re your parents. They had a right to know,” he said.
I shook my head. “When did you even talk to them?”
“Today. They invited me to lunch,” he said.
I felt sick. “Great. Just great. For your information, I’m not talking to them anymore.”
Jordan rolled his eyes. “Mila, stop with the drama. You’re not the one suffering. Your husband can’t have a child because of you.”
I stared at him. My chest ached. “I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight.”
“Whatever,” he muttered, walking past me.
