My mother whispered, "It's just his bad luck. For Bianca, everything is worth it."
My mother rubbed her aching waist and touched her belly. I didn't know what she was thinking, but she looked a little downcast. I didn’t believe in fate. My life was my own.
My mother really listened to the doctor's advice and never left her bed. She called the doctor as soon as she felt any discomfort in her stomach. I could only anxiously wait for the right moment to have an abortion.
At this time, I still had a glimmer of kindness in my heart; I didn't want to hurt my mother too much.
When I was barely seven months pregnant, my mother couldn't wait to have the doctor prepare for a cesarean section. The day before the operation, my mother got out of bed. She was no longer so cautious. She took my sister and father for a walk downstairs.
"Once this child is born tomorrow, my Bianca won't have to suffer so much." Mom's tone was filled with anticipation.
"That's the meaning of this child's birth." Dad agreed.
My sister asked me what my name was.
Mom casually said, "Let's call him Bryan."