Looking back at that period of my life, I realize there were little red flags I somehow brushed off. Namely, Ryan would spend around an hour a day talking to someone on the phone, and he’s go to the garage for that particular phone call. Whenever I asked who it was calling him every day at around the same time, he said it wasn’t anyone important.
And then, when it came to the baby names, he didn’t care how one of the babies would be called as long as one was called Caleb. I told him I liked the name Noah for our other son, and he acted completely indifferent. Also, I’d caught him stare at my pregnant belly like he was in awe, or maybe in shock, but then I’d told myself he was just probably overwhelmed of becoming a father to twins.
The moment I was 38 weeks pregnant, I suddenly felt sharp pain in my abdomen and couldn’t breath. I remember Ryan calling the emergency services, but he didn’t seem rushed. Instead, he was speaking rather casually, as though he was ordering takeout. The next thing I know, I lost consciousness.
