Off The Record
I Caught My Husband With His Pregnant Ex—What He Whispered Left Me Frozen
My world fell apart when I overheard my husband whispering those things to his pregnant ex-wife in the clinic waiting room. He said, “She can’t find out,” and I believed I understood the horrible secret they were concealing.
I was mistaken. So incredibly incorrect.
This isn’t the story you think it is, so let me begin at the beginning.
From the outside, my life appeared to be ideal. I had a good job, a great house, and a loving husband. Everything was coming together just the way I had always imagined.
Almost everything, actually.
A baby was the only thing missing from my life.
For three years, I had been trying to conceive.
I tried acupuncture, doctors, supplements, hormone therapy, and everything else. I sobbed by myself in the bathroom when I saw negative test results month after month.
Jason, my husband, was always understanding. Always encouraging.
When I broke down after yet another failed cycle, he would hold me. He would reassure me that we had time and that everything would work itself out. However, I could see that it also wore him down.
The worst thing? I was aware that he and his ex-wife, Olivia, had a son.
When they were married, becoming pregnant was easy for them. I was plagued by that thinking every day. Perhaps I was to blame. Perhaps there was a problem with my physique. Perhaps I was less of a woman because I was broken in some basic way.
I was captivated by those sinister ideas. I used to get a terrible mixture of humiliation and jealously when I saw other ladies pushing strollers past our house. Why was it so easy for everyone else to do what I couldn’t? What was wrong with my body?
I never felt horrible about it because of Jason. He never once expressed regret for marrying me or placed blame on me. However, I was aware that he desired kids.
We had discussed it prior to marriage. His son from his first marriage had benefited much from his fathering. He adored being a father, and I could see it.
I seized the opportunity when my friend Sarah suggested a brand-new reproductive clinic across town because of this. According to what she had heard, they had a fresh strategy and some promising new approaches.
“They’re not like the other places,” Sarah told me over coffee. “They really listen to you. They don’t just throw the same treatments at everyone.”
That day, I made an appointment.
But I didn’t mention it to Jason. I didn’t want to raise his expectations once more.
I reasoned that I would just go and listen to what they had to say, and if it appeared promising, I would involve him.
The consultation proceeded smoothly.
Dr. Martinez was thorough and courteous. He posed questions that had never been asked before. I therefore experienced a glimmer of hope for the first time in months.
I entered the waiting area to make my follow-up appointment after our conversation was over.
My entire universe collapsed at that point.
Jason was present.
Olivia was, too.
Olivia was also obviously pregnant.
Like a spy in some gag film, I hid behind the magazine rack. I was having trouble breathing. I was unable to think clearly.
Why had they come here? All together? In a fertility clinic?
Then I heard it.
Jason mumbled something that made me shudder as he leaned up close to Olivia.
“She can’t find out,” he said quietly, glancing around the waiting room. “I told her I’m working late tonight. Wait just a little longer, okay? Promise me that we’ll do this. You know why we’re doing this.”
As usual when he was under stress, he stopped and stroked his head.
“Same time next week?”
Olivia grinned and rubbed her plump belly while nodding.
“Of course,” she whispered back. “Don’t worry. Everything will work out exactly like we planned.”
In that waiting room, I felt like I was about to pass out.
I could clearly see what was happening in my mind. Jason was responsible for his ex-wife’s pregnancy. Behind my back, they were having a baby. I was unable to give him the baby.
He intended to abandon me. Someone whose body genuinely worked should take my place. And he was not even kind enough to inform me directly.
Somehow, I staggered out of that facility. I can’t even recall driving home or walking to my car.
Jason behaved quite normal when he got home that evening.
He said, “How was your day, babe?”
I wanted to face him then and there, but I refrained. Not quite yet.
“Fine,” was all I could manage. “Just tired.”
As I sat at our kitchen table, observing him go about our kitchen as if nothing had changed, he prepared dinner. As if he hadn’t intended to ruin our whole lives together.
He said nonchalantly, “I have to work late again next Tuesday,” without even glancing at me. “Big project deadline coming up.”
It was there. The falsehood. directly in front of me.
I had the longest seven days of my life during the next week.
I hardly ate or slept. I wanted to shove Jason away every time he touched me or declared his love for me. How was he able to do that?
But I was prepared on Tuesday.
Their whispered chat reminded me of the time and location. I therefore arrived at the clinic early and waited in my car in the parking area.
And sure enough, Jason’s automobile arrived at precisely 3:30 p.m.
Olivia was waiting by the doorway already.
I watched as they entered together, and I immediately followed.
“Hey!” I exclaimed.
When Jason saw it was me, he spun around and his face went white.
“Rachel…” he stammered, his hands shaking. “I was going to tell you. Please. Just come inside with us. Sit down. Let me explain everything.”
I was ready for the battle of my life when I sat down in that consultation room.
However, what I received was above my wildest expectations.
Whispering, “It’s about Tyler,” Jason murmured. “Our son. Rachel, he’s unwell. Very ill.”
Jason’s first marriage produced a 15-year-old son named Tyler. A kind child who always remembers my birthday and referred to me as ‘bonus mum’
I questioned, “What do you mean sick?”
With tears running down her cheeks, Olivia raised her voice. “He has leukaemia.” An extremely aggressive type that is uncommon. He requires a stem cell transplant, according to the experts, but Jason and I are not compatible.
“We’ve been searching the national registry for months,” Jason continued. “No matches anywhere. The doctors told us there was one last option.”
Dr. Martinez, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, leaned forward. “Sometimes when parents aren’t matches, we can create a sibling through IVF specifically to harvest umbilical cord blood for transplant. It’s not guaranteed, but it’s often the last hope.”
The room seemed to be whirling to me. “You’re having a baby to save Tyler?”
Olivia remarked, “We had to try,” while shielding her belly with her palm. “The doctors said if we didn’t act fast, Tyler might not make it to his sixteenth birthday.”
Jason grabbed my hand, but I resisted. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I’m an idiot,” he said, tears in his eyes. “Because I know how much you’ve suffered trying to get pregnant. I thought seeing Olivia carry a child… my child… would destroy you. I thought it would be easier if I just handled it myself.”
“I was wrong,” he continued. “I was so wrong to keep this from you. But Rachel, this isn’t about replacing you or choosing her over you. This is about saving our son’s life.”
Olivia spoke up again. “There’s something else, Rachel. Something Jason doesn’t know yet.”
Both of us gazed at her.
“I want you to raise this kid when she is born and we draw Tyler’s cord blood. You two.”
My jaw dropped. “What?”
“I can’t handle two kids while Tyler’s going through treatment,” she explained. “And honestly? I know how badly you want to be a mother. I know how much love you have to give. This baby deserves that.”
“She’s offering to let us adopt the baby,” Jason remarked, his expression mirroring my own surprise.
I was unable to talk. I sat there, trying to take it all in.
Olivia gave birth to the most stunning baby girl I had ever seen three months later while I was holding her hand in a hospital room. The cord blood was sent right away to the lab.
Olivia murmured to me, “She’s yours now,” as the nurses laid the tiny, flawless baby in my arms.
We are ecstatic to have our little bundle of joy, whom we called Grace, in our life. After years of heartache and empty arms, I was finally a mother. The fact that I did not go through the birthing process does not diminish my motherhood.
I am extremely proud to be Grace’s mommy.
What about the transplant? It worked. The cord blood matched exactly.
The most exquisite presents can occasionally arrive in the most horrifying packaging. I was too scared to trust, and I nearly lost everything. However, I learnt from Grace that love isn’t always what we anticipate it to be.
Before she was even born, she saved her brother’s life.
She also saved my.
Now Trending:
- Hero Shatters Car Window To Save Child — But What The Mom Did Next Left Everyone Stunned
- My Son Vanished During Our Family Vacation — Five Hours Later, A Strange Dog Came Out Of The Woods With His Hat In Its Mouth
- Rude Parents Told Me Not To Eat On The Plane—So I Taught Them A Lesson
Please let us know your thoughts and SHARE this story with your Friends and Family!
