After two heartbreaking miscarriages, Hannah’s rainbow baby was finally on the way. The gender reveal party was perfect until her sister’s scream pierced the air. Their beautiful cake lay destroyed on the kitchen floor, frosting smeared everywhere, the secret inside exposed.
But who would sabotage such a precious moment, and why? I always dreamed of becoming a mom. My name is Hannah, and I’m 32 years old.
After two heartbreaking miscarriages and years of praying every night before bed, my husband and I were finally expecting our rainbow baby. Every ultrasound felt like a miracle. That tiny heartbeat on the monitor was something we’d waited our whole lives to hear.
Daniel, my husband, was over the moon from the moment we saw those two pink lines. He kissed my stomach every single morning before work and whispered the same thing each time. “Hang in there, little one.
We can’t wait to meet you.”
When we shared the news with his mother, Margaret, she actually cried. “Oh, Daniel,” she said, clutching his hands tight. “You’re finally giving this family a son.”
A son.
Those words stung a little, but I smiled politely.
“We don’t know the gender yet,” I said as gently as I could. She laughed, waving her hand as if I’d just told a joke. “I can just feel it.
It’s going to be a boy. A true heir of the family.”
Margaret had always been distant with me. She was polite in public but cold in private.
She’d never said anything cruel outright, but her eyes always carried that quiet judgment, like I was never quite good enough for her son. Still, for the first time since I’d met her, she seemed almost excited. She called more often after that.
She brought over casseroles “for the baby” and talked endlessly about how she’d raised Daniel, and how she “knew what boys needed.”
“Boys are special,” she’d say with this dreamy look in her eyes. “They carry on the family name. They’re the legacy.”
I just nodded and thanked her for the food.
Time passed in a blur of doctor’s visits, baby kicks, and late-night talks about names. Daniel wanted something classic, while I wanted something meaningful. We compromised by making lists and laughing at the terrible suggestions we found online.
When I hit 20 weeks, we planned our gender reveal party together. We wanted to make it simple, personal, and full of love. Just family, a few close friends, and the baby we’d been waiting for so long.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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