“We need to operate immediately,” he said.
The hysterectomy itself was medically necessary, but complications during surgery left me unable to carry children. I wouldn’t ever get pregnant.
The dream we used to whisper about at night and the names we’d picked out… all just collapsed into silence. I was devastated.
The grief felt like drowning, wave after wave of what would never be.
Daniel said the right words at first. “We’ll get through this together, Rachel. It’s us that matters, not whether we have kids. We have each other.”
I believed him.
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I clung to those words during the long, painful recovery days when getting out of bed felt impossible. When well-meaning friends asked how I was “handling everything,” I’d repeat his reassurances like a mantra.
Three days after my surgery, when I could barely stand without sharp pains shooting through my abdomen, I shuffled into the kitchen for the first time.
The pain medication made everything fuzzy, but I was desperate for something normal. Maybe a cup of tea, or just to see sunlight streaming through our yellow curtains.
I expected to find some small kindness waiting for me. Maybe a Post-it note with a heart drawn on it, the way he used to leave them on my coffee mug when we were dating.
Instead, I found a piece of paper taped to the refrigerator door.
At first glance, I thought it was a grocery list or maybe medical instructions from the hospital. But when I leaned closer, my stomach clenched with something far worse than surgical pain.
It wasn’t groceries. It wasn’t medical notes.
It was an invoice.
“Itemized Costs of Caring for You — Please Reimburse ASAP.”
The header was written in Daniel’s neat accountant handwriting, the same careful script he used for our monthly budget spreadsheets. Below it was a list that turned my world upside down.
Driving you to and from the hospital: $120
Helping you shower and dress: $75/day (3 days)
Cooking your meals (including soup): $50/meal (9 meals)
Picking up prescriptions: $60
Extra laundry due to “your situation”: $100
Missed poker night with Mark and the guys: $300
Emotional support and reassurance: $500
And at the bottom, circled in red like an overdue utility bill, were the words, TOTAL DUE: $2,105.
My legs nearly gave out. I gripped the refrigerator handle, just to stay upright.
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