True story: "I lost my babies – and then he left me"

Photo: 123rf.com

My twin girls would have been five this year had they survived. The loss doesn’t hurt as much anymore. The heart-wrenching pain has dulled into an ache that comes and goes. I’ll never really get over what happened, but now at least I can talk about it.

Ming* and I got married in 1997, when I was 26 and he was 30. After a year of not being able to conceive, I consulted a gynaecologist and was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, which causes various fertility problems. My ovaries were releasing eggs before they were fully formed.

I was put on Clomid, a fertility drug, and continued trying for more than a year. I would cry each time I got my period, because I felt like a failure as a woman and as a wife.

I started fertility injections. I had to jab my buttocks daily, but Ming was by my side, and encouraging me. Then we received the news we had been praying for: I was pregnant. Even though I had just been retrenched from my job as a flight attendant, I was never happier. I remember Ming jumping around and whooping with joy. I realised just how much he wanted to be a father.

Ten weeks into the pregnancy, more good news: We were expecting twins. We couldn’t believe how blessed we were.

When the bough breaks... 

Photo: 123rf.com

At the 24-week mark, the doctor told us one of the twins had died. I could still feel movement in my womb, and there was no pain. We were shocked but we forced ourselves to get over it. We had another baby to look forward to.

The doctors didn’t warn me that when a baby dies in the womb, the mother’s body would naturally try to expel it. Two weeks later, I started spotting. Ming rushed me to hospital, and my cervix was found to be 3cm dilated. I was admitted and told to lie down and not get up at all. I was so gripped by fear of losing a second baby that I couldn’t breathe.

While in hospital, I flatly refused to stand up, and used a bedpan to relieve myself. I grew constipated because I was afraid the baby would slip out if I tried to pass motion. So long as I could feel my baby moving inside, it was worth it, I told myself. And I kept telling her: “Be strong for mummy okay? Mummy loves you. Show me you’re okay.” She responded without fail with a little kick.

I was mentally prepared to spend months on my back just so my baby would make it, but I soon developed a fever. Fever is easily treatable, but I’m severely allergic to drugs like paracetamol, aspirin and antibiotics. To save my baby I begged the doctor to give me the drugs anyway. I still remember his words: “I am a doctor and I know what I’m doing. You are young and can have children later. I can’t risk it because you are likely to die.” Ming, fearing for my life, agreed with him. I didn’t take any medication for my fever. While I knew I would regret it and hate myself, the circumstances were unchangeable and I tried my best to be strong.

On the 12th night of my stay, I started shivering violently. The monitor strapped around my tummy indicated my baby’s heartbeat was faster, and increasingly irregular. At about 1am, I suddenly felt violent contractions, and

I instinctively knew that I was going to give birth. Ming rushed to my side and the doctor told us we had to decide whether we wanted to save the baby. The bare facts were laid out for us: The baby was less than 1kg and was infected by my fever. Even if resuscitated, she had a high probability of brain damage and physical disability.

It was the most painful decision I’ve ever made, but I decided against saving her. I started to cry, and whispered to my baby, “Mummy is so sorry, mummy has to let you go. Forgive me please.” She shifted slightly, and I didn’t feel her move again.

I delivered two hours later. I was not given anaesthesia and the pain was terrible. I remember the first baby, who had died earlier, was bald. But the second one had a full head of hair.

We already had names – Zi San for the firstborn, and Zi Qi for her younger sister. It hit me hard that two hours earlier, Zi Qi was still alive, but she stopped fighting the moment I gave up on her. I remember saying, “mummy’s sorry” over and over as I gave birth to her. I hope she knows from heaven how deep my sorrow is over losing her.

Everything we had was lost in that one defining moment. Ming and I could not bring ourselves to see our babies, and I told the hospital to dispose of them right away. Till today, I sorely regret not seeing both of them, and not giving them a proper burial.

At a loss

Photo: 123rf.com

Throughout the ordeal, Ming neither voiced his feelings nor comforted me. I told him to go home and rest, and he left without saying goodbye. I chose to go to my parents’ place to recuperate when I was discharged. I spent my days sleeping, crying, or staring at the television screen. I was racked with guilt, despair and a deep sense of loss. Thoughts haunted me: It was my fault for having allergies and being “weak”… I didn’t do enough good in my life… I smoked too much in my youth...

Ming called and visited, but we pretended that we were okay. He said he was concentrating on work, and I believed him.

After a month, I went home. The husband I returned to was not the same man. Ming stayed out till past midnight, and the only thing I thought about was to be the best wife possible so he would want to spend more time with me. That included pretending everything was fine. We never spoke about our loss. I stayed home, cooked his favourite dishes and kept the house clean, but at the same time I didn’t pay any attention to my appearance. I ballooned to 68kg, a stark change from my pre-pregnancy weight of 47kg.

I was determined to start the in-vitro process again, and was convinced that having a baby would save my marriage. There were still two frozen embryos left from our first round of in-vitro. Ming went along with it, but his enthusiasm was gone. Unlike the first time, he was never around when I injected myself.

READ MORE: TRUE STORY: "I battled depression after a car accident left me paralysed, then my marriage fell apart" and TRUE STORY: "My husband doesn't know I share him with my twin sister."

Marriage in the crossfire

Photo: 123rf.com

Ming began sneaking home at 4am, and was secretive about his phone calls, closeting himself in the toilet to answer them. We stopped having sex.

I broke into his phone’s inbox and saw loving messages between him and an unidentified sender. Rather than confront him, I hired a private investigator, who confirmed that Ming was seeing another woman.

I took Ming’s cheating calmly even though I was devastated. Maybe a part of me knew that my marriage had long been over. I called my doctor and told him to dump the frozen embryos.

Though I still wanted to give Ming a chance, he told me point blank that he wasn’t confident I could give him the kids he wanted. It was a slap in the face. When the confrontations escalated to violence – I threw plates at him, broke things around the house – I left him and moved back with my parents.

I started divorce proceedings, but Ming made half-hearted attempts to salvage our relationship. We had known each other for a decade, and seeing me go through the pain and heartbreak of trying to fulfil his needs to start a family left lingering sentiment and guilt. I believe on some level he still cared about me, but it was obvious he was in love with someone else.

Unable to deal with the situation or face up to our families and friends, he decided to pursue his engineering career abroad. He asked me to go along, but there was no point. I also wanted to give him his freedom, and a chance to fulfil his dreams of being a father, since I couldn’t promise him anything.

I helped Ming pack the night before he left Singapore. It was a sad night and we didn’t talk much. When I opened one of his drawers, a photo fell out. He had hidden an ultrasound scan of our babies.

I then realised how badly he’d been hurt. We clung to each other and cried our hearts out together for the first time since the babies died.

Our divorce was soon finalised, and it’s been three years since I saw him. In that time, I found the strength to move on. I was determined to take back control of my life. I owed it to myself, to my worried parents and to those who cared about me. I read inspirational books and turned to my religion to lift me out of depression.

Starting over

Photo: 123rf.com

A year ago, I started seeing Jack, an old friend who knew all about my past yet accepted it. I know his parents are pressuring him to have children, but I still have insecurities about my ability to conceive. I’m now 38, which makes things even more difficult. We’re trying to work things out.

I sometimes think I drove Ming away by being weak and helpless. I did everything in my power to please him at the expense of my own self-esteem, and I think it caused him to lose respect for me. In a way, losing my husband was more painful than losing my babies because I lost myself too. I’m telling my story in the hope that others who have gone through similar heartache will know that they are not alone. And don’t feel sorry for me. I have come out of this a better person.

* Not their real names

This story was originally published in the May 2009 issue of Her World.

READ MORE: True Story: "My hubby's mistress harassed me on Wechat."​ and TRUE STORY: "I was a married man's mistress for 15 years"​.