It sounded just like it should. Only with the extra that I am eight months pregnant and had to bring my ill four-year-old son to the hospital as my husband informed me he couldn’t miss his buddy Jessica’s 30th birthday party.

Neglected and Alone
I am Sarah, 33 years old and eight months pregnant.

My husband Mark and I recently moved to New York hoping for a fresh start, but little did I know how lonely it would be.

One night, our son Ethan complained of stomach troubles.

At first, I assumed it was something he ate, but his calls for help became louder and more forceful.

My anxiety grew; a feeling of dread began to consume me.

“Mark,” I murmured, desperately trying to keep my voice steady, “Ethan really should go to the hospital.

He’s not feeling well at all.”

Mark barely looked up from his phone.

He was busy packing for Jessica’s birthday celebration.

“Sarah, it’s just a stomach ache. He’ll be fine.”

Holding Ethan close to me, I argued, “I don’t think so. I am genuinely worried and too exhausted to drive right now.

Can you please pick him up?”

Mark let out an annoyed sigh. “I can’t miss Jessica’s party.

She would be offended if I didn’t show up.”

“Mark, please,” I begged.

I’m eight months pregnant and not well enough to bring him myself.

He looked at me sternly. “Sarah, you’ll have to handle it yourself.”

Something inside of me cracked in that moment. How could he put our son’s health and my well-being last? The love I once had for him began to wither away.

Abandoned and Desperate
Feeling desperate, I reached out to my friends Jenna and Lisa for help. Jenna’s phone went straight to voicemail and Lisa responded, but she told me she was buried in work. “I’m so sorry, Sarah. I just can’t go right now.”

Desperation set in as I called for an Uber. I had no other option, even though the fare was ridiculously expensive. Ethan’s condition was getting worse, and we needed to reach the hospital urgently.

When we arrived at the emergency room, it was bustling with activity. Clutching Ethan tightly, I tried my best to remain calm. After some initial examinations, a nurse brought us in and informed us that they needed to conduct further tests.

Hours later, a doctor approached me with a serious look on his face. “Your son has appendicitis and needs to be taken to the operating room immediately.”

Panic washed over me as I frantically tried to call Mark, but there was no response. With a trembling voice, I left him a note. “Mark, this is very serious. Ethan has appendicitis and needs surgery. Please call me.”

That evening was long and terrible. I stayed by Ethan’s side, watching his chest rise and fall as he slept. I was devastated, hungry, and furious. How could Mark not be here?

A New Beginning
The surgery went well, but I realized that this was only the beginning of a much larger problem. I made a decision while Ethan was recovering. A simple divorce wouldn’t be enough. Mark needed to understand the weight of his betrayal.

Although I didn’t know what my plan was yet, one thing was clear: I couldn’t let this go. I had to fight for Ethan, our unborn child, and for myself.

Time passed, and my phone buzzed incessantly. It was Mark finally calling.

“Sarah, I’m on my way back home. How is Ethan doing?” he asked nonchalantly, as if nothing was wrong.

Taking a deep breath and holding back the tears, I replied, “You’ll find out when you get here.”

I hung up with an unusual sense of calm. This was just the beginning, far from over.

As the evening turned into night, I laid out all the medical bills and Uber receipts on the kitchen table. Each piece of paper felt like a broken piece of my heart.

Then, I grabbed my phone and looked through the pictures I had taken during our hospital stay. Ethan looked so small and vulnerable lying in that hospital bed, and there I was, tired and anxious, holding his tiny hand. Each picture was a testament to the pain and abandonment we had endured.

Armed with everything I needed, I packed a suitcase with Mark’s essentials. Shirts, jeans, toothpaste – everything he would need for a few days. I placed the luggage near the front door and secured the locks. With every turn of the screwdriver, I felt a little more in control of the situation.

I took a deep breath and wrote a note. My hands trembled, but my determination was unwavering:

Mark,

You can find another place to stay since you chose a party over your family. Your belongings and evidence of your neglect are right here. I have also shared these with our friends and relatives. Consider this your divorce warning.

Sarah

I placed the pictures around the letter, on top of the suitcase. It was impossible to ignore or deny this scene. Attaching the pictures and outlining what had transpired, I wrote notes to our close family and friends. While I knew it would stir up emotions, I needed them to understand why I was taking such extreme measures.

As the sun began to set, I heard the sound of Mark’s car pulling into the driveway. My heart pounded in my chest, but I stood still. From the window, I watched as he walked towards the front porch. His expression changed from uncertainty to shock as he noticed the bag and note.

He fumbled for his phone and called me. “Sarah, what is going on? What is this about?”

“You chose a party over your family, Mark,” I said firmly, my voice steady. “Ethan needed emergency surgery, and you missed it. I had to handle it all by myself.”

There was silence on the other end, followed by panicked and pleading words. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I didn’t realize it was that serious. Can we please talk about this?”

Even though he couldn’t see me, I shook my head. It was too late for that. You made your choice. Ethan and I deserve better.

He pleaded, “Please. I can change. I’ll do better. Just give me another chance.”

Closing my eyes, I felt the weight of his words, but I knew I couldn’t go back. “This goes beyond one mistake, Mark. It speaks to a pattern of neglect and disregard. I have to prioritize our children and myself.”

The line went silent, and I could hear his subdued tears. “Sarah, sweetheart. Ethan is loved. Please don’t do this.”

“I’m doing this because I love Ethan and our unborn child,” I said firmly. “We need consistency and someone who will always put us first. You’ve shown me that you are not that person.”

I ended the call and turned off my phone. A mix of relief and sadness washed over me. This was the beginning of a new chapter where my children and I would be loved and given the priority we deserved.

I spent the long night awake, contemplating the future. It wouldn’t be easy, but I knew it was the right choice. Any love and trust I had for Mark had been shattered by his actions. It was time to move forward and create a life that my children and I deserved.

As the early light filtered through the curtains, I felt a sense of calm. The storm had passed, and a new day was beginning. We would be okay, I knew. That was enough. We had each other.