Prepare For The Stranger
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“I’m afraid I have bad news,” the doctor said. “The baby is in distress.”
My husband and I looked at each other, our eyes wide with shock. We’d been told that everything was fine during my last checkup two days before. My due date wasn’t for another week yet.
We were both so excited to be having a child together. And now this? It couldn’t possibly happen.
But it did. Our son came into the world three months early on August 14th of 2001. He weighed only 4 pounds even—a tiny little thing who needed help breathing. His skin was translucent, his fingers and toes wrinkled like an old man’s hands.
But he had a strong cry when they placed him in my arms after delivery. That made me think maybe everything would turn out okay. Maybe we could take care of him ourselves without needing any special equipment or medical attention.
It didn’t work out quite as well as we hoped. After four weeks in the hospital, our son finally went home with us. He still required oxygen support from time to time and had to stay under observation for six more months. When he got older, though, things improved rapidly. Nowadays you can hardly tell anything ever happened to him.
Our son has grown up to become a healthy young man. He’s twenty years old now. In fact, today is his birthday! Happy Birthday, sweetheart. You’re such a good boy. Mommy loves you very much.
I’ve always loved children, but I never thought about having one of my own until recently. As a single woman living alone, it seemed too risky. What if something terrible happened while I was pregnant? Or what if the father left me afterward because he no longer wanted kids around?
Then I met my husband. We fell in love right away and decided to get married. He already had a daughter from his previous marriage, which ended badly. So he knew all about raising children. He also had experience working in a daycare center, so he understood how important it is to provide them with lots of affection and attention.
When we found out we were expecting, we immediately started preparing for the birth. We bought some books on pregnancy and childbirth, read up on what to expect, and watched videos online. Everything seemed normal: regular periods, morning sickness, cravings… There was nothing unusual happening.
Until one night when I woke up in the middle of the night feeling sick to my stomach. At first, I thought it might just be indigestion, but then I felt a sharp pain in my lower abdomen. It hurt so much that I couldn’t fall back asleep. I tried lying down again, but the pain grew worse.
Eventually, I gave up trying to sleep and took myself off to the bathroom. Then I sat there for a long time, holding onto the toilet bowl, hoping not to throw up. Finally, the pain subsided enough for me to go back to bed.
In the morning, I called my gynecologist, Dr. Park, and asked her to see me ASAP. She examined me and confirmed that I was indeed pregnant.
At this point, I should probably mention that I hadn’t taken any form of contraception since I became sexually active. I figured it wouldn’t do any harm to let nature take its course. Plus, I really liked sex. If I couldn’t have babies, I’d rather enjoy myself than be miserable.
Dr. Park warned me against using hormonal contraceptives because they can cause serious complications later on in life. Instead, she recommended taking daily vitamins containing folic acid, calcium, iron, and zinc.
These are critical nutrients for fetal development, especially in the first trimester. They’ll make sure your child gets all the nourishment he needs to grow healthy and strong.
After that, I went to see my obstetrician, Dr. Lee. On the way over, I stopped by a drugstore and picked up a prenatal vitamin supplement. I swallowed the pills whole, along with a glass of water.
That evening, I noticed a small lump in my breast. It was hard to feel through my clothes, but I could definitely see it in the mirror. I panicked and rushed to the emergency room.
The doctors checked me out thoroughly. Thankfully, the lump turned out to be benign. I was relieved, but I was also worried. Couldn’t I catch some kind of cancer from taking those supplements? Would I need chemotherapy treatments later on in life?
I didn’t want to risk it. So I quit taking the supplements.
But I still continued to worry. Every time I saw a pregnant woman, I wondered whether she was doing the right thing. Was she going to give birth to a healthy baby? Did she know what she was getting herself into?
My anxiety increased whenever I looked at my own belly. The bump wasn’t very big yet, but it was growing steadily every day. My breasts swelled up, too, making it difficult to find bras that fit properly.
And then one morning, I woke up and realized my period had come early. This was extremely rare for me; I usually ovulated late in the month. But here it was, two days earlier than usual.
This was bad news. I’d been skipping my monthly cycle for almost a year now. And I knew why.
I’m sorry, honey. I don’t think I can have another kid. Not after everything we’ve gone through.
***
A few hours later, I received a call from Dr. Park. “We ran a genetic test,” she said. “Your fetus doesn’t carry any abnormalities.”
“What does that mean?” I asked. “Does it mean the baby will be okay?”
She hesitated before answering. “It means you’re carrying twins.”
Twins! I couldn’t believe it. How did this happen? Why would God punish us like this?
I hung up the phone and cried. I kept crying, even as I lay on the sofa, hugging my knees. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t understand. I prayed to God, asking him to help me. I begged Him to tell me what I needed to do next.
Finally, I heard footsteps coming toward my apartment door. When I opened it, my husband stood there, looking concerned. He held his arms open wide, and I fell into them. I sobbed uncontrollably while he stroked my hair and whispered comforting words in my ear.
He told me that he loved me no matter what. That I was beautiful inside and out. And that we would get through this together.
We decided to keep our discovery a secret until after the delivery. We wanted to surprise everyone with the good news. Besides, I was only eight months pregnant, which meant there was plenty of time left to prepare.
However, when I went back to work, I started feeling sick. I threw up several times during the day, and I felt dizzy and weak. I tried drinking lots of fluids, but nothing helped. I was afraid something might go wrong if I stayed home.
So I forced myself to stay at the office and continue working. At lunchtime, I took an elevator down to the basement cafeteria. There were about ten other employees eating their lunches in the dining area.
As soon as I stepped foot into the room, I got a whiff of someone’s perfume. It smelled so sweetly floral—like roses. A pretty scent, but not overpowering. Just enough to remind me of spring.
I sat down at a table near the window and ate my sandwich. Then I reached into my bag and pulled out my laptop. As I typed away, I glanced around the room.
There was a young man sitting across from me. His eyes met mine, and he smiled warmly. He wore a navy blue suit and tie, and his dark brown hair was neatly combed back.
His name tag read “Sung-min.”
He seemed familiar. Had I seen him somewhere before? Maybe at church or school? I racked my brain, trying to remember where I’d seen him.
Then I remembered. I had seen him at the hospital.
When I first arrived, I spotted Sung-min standing outside the maternity ward. I watched him walk past the nurses’ station, heading straight for the elevators. I thought he must have been visiting a patient.
I followed him to the lobby, where I waited patiently behind him. After a few minutes, he finally emerged from the elevator doors. He walked over to the reception desk, handed the nurse his ID card, and introduced himself.
After that, he disappeared into the hallway. I figured he was off to visit a patient.
That evening, I visited the same floor again. I found Sung-min walking by the nurses’ station. He was wearing the same navy blue suit, but this time he carried a white plastic folder under his arm.
I hurried after him, hoping to catch up with him before he entered the elevator. However, I lost sight of him just as the doors began closing.
I rushed back to my car, searching frantically for him. Eventually, I gave up and returned home.
The next morning, I was on the hunt once more. I drove to the hospital and parked my car in the underground parking lot. I made sure to arrive early before anyone else showed up.
I hid among the rows of cars, waiting for Sung-min to appear. I saw him enter the building and head toward the elevators. So I followed him.
Once again, I noticed how handsome he looked. He wore a gray suit jacket and black pants, paired with a white dress shirt and matching bowtie. He also had a small bouquet of flowers tucked beneath one arm.
At the end of the hall, Sung-min stopped at a door marked “Maternity.” He knocked gently, then waited for a response.
Seconds later, the door swung open, revealing a woman in her late twenties. She was dressed in a pink sweater and jeans, along with white tennis shoes. Her long, wavy hair was tied back into a ponytail.
She smiled widely when she saw Sung-min. They both spoke quietly, exchanging pleasantries. Then they stepped inside the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.
I crept closer, peeking around the corner. Inside, I could see the two of them talking. The woman was gesturing animatedly, pointing to various parts of her body.
“My stomach is hard,” she said excitedly. “And my breasts are sore!”
Sung-min nodded. He leaned forward, placing his hand on hers. Then he kissed her forehead.
It was obvious that they were close friends. But why did he bring her here today? Did he want to share some kind of special announcement with her?
I couldn’t help but wonder: What was it that he planned to tell her?
***
A few days later, I received a call from my doctor.
“Congratulations! You’re going to be a mother!” he told me cheerfully. “You’ve already passed your first trimester.”
I was surprised. I hadn’t realized I was pregnant until now. All those months ago, I had assumed I would never conceive without medical intervention.
But there I was, carrying a baby inside me.
“How far along am I?” I asked.
“About thirteen weeks,” he replied. “Your due date is October twenty-fifth.”
October 25th… That was only three short months away.
I hung up the phone, smiling broadly. I felt like I had won the lottery.
For the rest of the day, I kept thinking about what life might look like in the future. I pictured myself holding my newborn son or daughter in my arms.
I didn’t know much yet. Would I give birth naturally? Or would I need an emergency C-section? How big was my baby growing right now? Was he or she healthy?
These questions raced through my mind. And all the while, I tried to picture the face of my child. Who would he or she grow up to become?
As I lay down to sleep that night, I couldn’t stop wondering if I would ever get to meet my little miracle.
***
One week later, my husband came home from work. I greeted him with a smile.
“Hey, babe,” I whispered. “Do you remember that conversation we had last month?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, about having another kid?”
“Well…” I paused. “We got our wish!”
His eyes widened. “Really?!”
I nodded.
“Oh my God, honey!” he exclaimed. “Are you serious?! We’re gonna have a baby!”
I laughed. “Yes, really!”
Then I explained everything that happened since our initial consultation. I described how I’d been feeling sick lately, and how I went to the doctor’s office to confirm my pregnancy.
“So, I’m almost four months along,” I concluded. “In about six weeks, we’ll find out whether it’s a boy or girl.”
My husband grinned. “That’s great news, sweetie. I can’t wait to hold our new baby in my arms.”
I smiled warmly. “Me too.”
After dinner, we sat together on the couch, watching TV. My husband held my hand, stroking my fingers.
“This is so exciting,” he murmured. “Our family will be complete soon.”
I nodded. Then I leaned over, kissing him tenderly on the lips. “Thank you for being such a wonderful father to our children,” I whispered. “They love you very much.”
He blushed. “Aw, thanks. It means a lot that they think so highly of me.”
I squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “I’m sure they’ll treat their brother or sister just as well.”
My husband smiled. “I hope so.”
Later that evening, I took a bath. As usual, my thoughts drifted to the future.
What would life be like once our second child arrived? Would he or she take after me or my husband? Would he or she inherit my curly brown hair or my husband’s light blonde locks?
Would he or she be outgoing, like my oldest son, or shy, like my youngest one?
Or maybe something else entirely?
The possibilities were endless.
***
Two months later, I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. His name was Jae-ho, which meant “blessed.”
He weighed eight pounds and five ounces at birth, with a head full of dark curls. When he opened his eyes for the first time, I knew immediately that he looked exactly like my husband.
“Look who we made!” I cried happily.
Jae-ho stared back at me, blinking slowly.
“Hello, Mommy,” he said softly.
I giggled. “Hi, Baby Boy.”
At first, he seemed content to stay in my arms. But then he began crying, making cute little noises.
“Here,” I crooned. “Let me feed you.”
I picked up the bottle from the side table, and gently placed it against his mouth. He sucked eagerly, drinking every drop.
When he finished, I burped him, changing his diaper. Then I put him into bed, tucking him under the covers.
“Goodnight, Sweetheart,” I whispered. “Sleep tight.”
I kissed his forehead, then turned off the lamp.
And before long, he fell asleep.
It wasn’t long afterward when I heard footsteps outside the bedroom door.
“Mommy?”
I glanced up, surprised.
“Is Daddy here?” my son asked.
I shook my head. “No, not right now.”
“Can I come to see you?”
I hesitated. “Of course.”
A moment later, Jae-ho entered the room. He crawled onto my lap, hugging me tightly.
“You’ve grown so much,” I told him. “How are you doing?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I never feel good anymore,” he replied. “And sometimes, I cry for no reason.”
I frowned. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he insisted. “But I still want to spend more time with you.”
My heart melted. “Okay,” I assured him. “Tomorrow morning, I promise. You can wake up early and watch cartoons.”
He smiled. “Thanks, Mommy.”
“Do you need anything else?” I asked.
“Just you,” he answered. “Please.”
I hugged him again. “All right. I’ll be there tomorrow.”
As I stood up, I noticed a small envelope lying on the floor. Curious, I picked it up and read its contents:
Dear Mrs. Kim,
Congratulations! Your son has passed all of his exams. Please pick him up at school today.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Park
“Wow,” I muttered. “He actually did it!”
Then I walked downstairs, where my husband was waiting for me.
“Did you hear?” I asked excitedly. “Jae-ho got an A+ on his report card!”
My husband smiled. “Yes, I saw. Congratulations, honey.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “Now let’s go get him.”
We drove to his elementary school, arriving just moments before the end of class. We waited until everyone had left, then approached Jae-ho’s teacher.
She smiled. “Well done, Jae-ho,” she praised. “Your hard work paid off.”
Jae-ho grinned. “Thanks.”
His teacher led us down the hall to the principal’s office. There, we met Mrs. Park, who congratulated Jae-ho on his achievement.
“This is amazing news,” she exclaimed. “I’m so proud of your son.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “So am I.”
“I’d like to give you both a gift,” she continued. “To celebrate his success.”
“That sounds wonderful,” I agreed.
A few minutes later, we returned home. My husband helped Jae-ho pack his things, while I prepared dinner. Afterward, we sat around the dining table, eating together as a family.
Later, when my husband went upstairs to check on Jae-ho, I stayed behind to clean up the dishes. As I wiped them dry, I couldn’t help but smile. It felt nice to have another child in the house.
The following day, I woke up earlier than usual. When I peeked into the living room, I found my husband sleeping soundly next to our son. I watched silently for several seconds, admiring their peaceful forms. Then, I quietly slipped out of the room.
After showering, I dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Then I grabbed a jacket and headed outside. The air was crisp, and the sun shone brightly overhead. I breathed deeply, enjoying the freshness of the morning.
Soon enough, I arrived at Jae-ho’s school. I parked my car near the entrance, then made my way inside. Once I reached the front desk, I spoke to one of the teachers.
“Excuse me, could you tell me where Jae-ho is?” I asked.
“Oh, yes,” she replied. “Right this way.”
I followed her down the hallway, passing by classrooms full of students. Finally, we stopped outside a classroom door. She opened it, revealing a large group of children sitting at desks.
“Jae-ho, over here,” she called.
Jae-ho looked up from his seat. “Here?” he asked.
“Yes,” she confirmed. “Come join us.”
Jae-ho rose to his feet, then stepped forward. One after another, the other kids began to stand up. Soon enough, they were all gathered around him—laughing, smiling, and chatting away.
“Hi, Jae-ho,” I greeted. “What are you guys doing?”
“We’re celebrating your son’s report card,” Mrs. Park explained. “He received an A+!”
Jae-ho nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “It feels great.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come back home?” I asked.
“No,” he replied. “I think I’ll stay here longer.”
“Okay,” I decided. “That’s fine with me.”
By noon, I finally managed to convince Jae-ho to return home. He promised to call if he wanted to spend more time at school, which I thought was probably a good idea. So, I bid farewell to the rest of the kids, then drove home alone.
The End