My sister touched Mom's belly and asked, "Mom, if you have another child, does that mean you don't love me anymore?"
Mom shook her belly firmly, "You're my only child. This one in my belly was born just for you. You'll always be my treasure."
My sister looked at me anxiously and asked again, "What if my brother is healthier than me? If I had my brother’s health, wouldn't Mom and Dad have to worry about me?"
My father's eyes were filled with tears at my sister's understanding. He hugged Mom and sister in his arms, his voice choking with sobs.
He said, "No, even if Mom and Dad have other children, you're still the most important."
They cried outside and I cried in my mom’s belly. I refused to listen to their plans. I wanted to make their efforts go in vain. I pulled the umbilical cord and bit down hard.
"Ah!" Mom cried out in pain. Cold sweat soaked Mom's clothes.
After Mom had Dad take my sister out, she cursed at her belly. "Are you a beast? Don't you know how hard your sister has waited for you? And if you're still making a fuss, what if it affects the quality of your umbilical cord blood? All my hard work will be in vain!"
What baby wanted to be born with a purpose? I hated my sister, I hated my mother, I hated my father.
I tugged at the umbilical cord, spinning in circles in my belly. Mom was in so much pain she couldn't even scream. I thought I'd die after all this suffering. But her superpowers were truly remarkable. Although she was weakened, I've managed to stay safely inside her belly.
"You're truly not as good as Bianca. I gave birth to Bianca peacefully and without suffering. Only this..." Mom, concerned about the presence of others, stopped talking. I knew she wanted to scold me.
It was so obvious whether she loved me or not. I was almost seven months old and she still hadn't given me a name. The other child kept calling me and she only called me baby when she was in a good mood.
I felt a little anxious. I was almost seven months pregnant. Mom and Dad had discussed having me delivered by cesarean section. At that point, life and death were no longer my decision.
The doctor told Mom not to get out of bed and to urinate and defecate in bed, otherwise the baby might not survive. The doctor's tone was stern.
Mom asked, puzzled, "Didn't they say the fetus was healthy? How could it suddenly become so serious?"
She became agitated, "I followed the doctor's instructions to care for the baby and took every injection to maintain it. How could he not survive?"
I was my sister's hope. The doctor said I was never going to survive in the first place and that medication was used to force it.
Mom was furious and scolded me again. She called me a loser and a worthless person. But soon she had no time for me.
My sister fell ill and was admitted to the ICU. But Mom, despite the doctor's advice, got out of bed. My parents watched my sister through the glass door. Mom was grief-stricken and her grief directly affected me, but I felt only annoyance. After all, I was just an innocent baby. I didn’t want to live for my sister.
Mom couldn't bear to see my sister lying sick in the hospital bed. She frantically grabbed the doctor and asked, "Can we do a C-section now? My daughter can't wait!"
The doctor was shocked by this crazy decision. He quickly dissuaded her, "The child's lungs aren't fully developed yet. A C-section now would have a very low chance of survival."
A flicker of hesitation flashed in my mother's eyes, but she didn't want to care anymore. All she had eyes for was my sister.
