One Pretend Husband, One Real One
My husband, Malcolm Thorpe, has low sperm motility. After 33 rounds of IVF, I finally got pregnant.
On delivery day, I start hemorrhaging, and the medical team calls for an emergency C-section. Malcolm signs the consent form, then rushes straight back to his childhood sweetheart's birthday party.
But instead of starting the C-section, the surgeon says, "Ms. Jacobson, the electronic medical record lists you as single. This consent form isn't valid."
I stop breathing for a beat. The happy marriage I believe in turns out to be a sham.
Later, Mom and Dad rush in and sign the consent for me. But by then, the baby is gone. The asphyxia lasted too long.
After surgery, I scrawl my name on the cremation consent with shaking hands, then dial a number without thinking.
"Samuel, are you free now? Meet me in front of City Hall."