"Bianca, Bianca." Mom kept repeating that name, as if the name gave her immense courage.
Dad screamed, "Blood? You're bleeding!"
Mom was rushed to the emergency room. I felt so sleepy, as if I could die at any moment. That’s fine. I could continue to wait in line for reincarnation.
Mom, it was better not to give birth to an unloved child. I was still in your belly.
I heard from the doctors and nurses around me that Mom used her supernatural powers to keep me alive. The price she paid was bedridden until I was born and three injections a day to maintain my pregnancy.
Mom didn't care; she only cared about when I could be delivered by cesarean section. My sister's condition worsened and she needed my umbilical cord blood and bone marrow.
To ensure I could be delivered alive by cesarean section at seven months old, she began taking all kinds of supplements. Traditional medicine, bird's nest, sea cucumber—anything nutritious. I didn't like the taste. I kicked upward with all my might, successfully hitting my mother's stomach.
"Ugh." Mom vomited out the undigested nutrients.
But she was very determined. After she vomited, she continued to have people bring her the nutrients and whenever she drank, I kicked. She even vomited bile. I was exhausted from kicking and I struggled weakly through the amniotic fluid for a few seconds, but she didn't give up.
Mom played my sister's singing voice and while listening to her, she drank bowl after bowl of bitter traditional Chinese medicine.
In that instant, I felt a strong hatred for my sister, whom I had never met. Why should both my parents love her? What have I done wrong? Why should I give my everything to my sister? I don't want a life like this. I gathered myself, my strength exhausted, so I grabbed my uterus with my hands.
Mom writhed on the bed, one hand clutching her stomach, the other covering her mouth. My mother's cries are truly pitiful and many people are watching from the door of her hospital room.
"I know her. She's been in the hospital since she became pregnant, spending at least hundreds of thousands of dollars just to keep this baby alive."
"Plus, she had this child because her first child had a blood disease and she only conceived this one for the sake of the umbilical cord blood and bone marrow."
"This child hasn't even been born yet and she's been categorized as a poor choice. How pitiful."
Hearing these words, I worked even harder.
When I was waiting in line in the underworld, I'd seen children like me, born for medical treatment. He had a miserable life. Not only did he have to have blood drawn, but he also restricted in what he ate every day. He was literally living for the child before him. Because bone marrow extractions were done too frequently, he had to wait in line again at the age of seven. But he was happy.
"That's great! If I die, I won't have to go through surgery. I must be reborn into a good family this time. I want fried chicken and Coke."
I shuddered. These days were horrible. I didn’t want to be born into a family like this.
"Mom!" A little girl, her hair completely bald, appeared at the ward door, accompanied by her father.
She was thin and tiny and looked frail. This was the first time I saw my sister.
When Mom saw my sister, it was as if she were recharged with strength. She forced a smile.
"Why is Bianca here? Did you eat well today?"
The mother and daughter talked affectionately and I listened quietly, imagining myself as my sister. Mom would gently touch my smiling face, hug me lovingly and blame herself for not giving me a healthy body.
