After being brainwashed by Robert and his mother day after day, I started to believe I was at fault, that I had failed the family by not continuing their bloodline.
A week later, my mother-in-law heard of a remedy from somewhere.
She wanted me to abort the baby, set up a shrine for her at home, and take a special potion that would ensure the next child was a boy.
Under their constant pressure, I went to the hospital.
The emotional torment had taken its toll, and instead of gaining weight, I had lost a few pounds, my cheeks were sunken, and there were dark circles under my eyes.
Sitting in the hospital hallway, I rubbed my already showing belly and stared blankly at the wall.
Suddenly, I felt the baby move.
I pictured myself playing with her.
The baby's strong will to live awakened my maternal instincts.
At the door of the operating room, I knelt in front of my mother-in-law, sobbing, begging her to spare the baby.
Due to the doctor and public opinion, she reluctantly agreed.
When we got home, she threw her bag aside, her face red with anger, and sat on the couch, berating me in front of Robert and her three daughters.