Years ago, before Mark and I even got engaged, he had sat me down for a serious conversation.
“Before we go any further,” he said quietly, “you should know something about me. I can’t have children. A doctor confirmed it years ago. If you want kids, Carol, you should leave me now.”
I had always imagined becoming a mother someday. But when I looked at his face in that moment, I realized something important.
I wanted him more.
So I smiled through the sting of disappointment and said, “Well, then I guess we’ll just have to spoil everyone else’s.”
I never regretted that decision. Mark and I built a happy life together.
I still secretly hoped for a miracle sometimes — until the day everything changed.
I collapsed while gardening.