My Wife had a Baby

This is re-post of a deleted story

There is very little sex in this story.

*****

Some TDY (Temporary Duty) assignments are fun and exciting. This one was not. It was 30 days of almost 24/7 hard-ass work.

Every year the US Army is involved in a "Rapid Response Deployment" exercise. Several units from throughout the whole Army are selected to participate and are airlifted, with all of their equipment, to Germany, where they work alongside their NATO Counterparts in a month-long training exercise.

My name is Fred Sadler. I was a relatively new Captain in the US Army at the time, and worked in Operations, stationed at Fort Hood, Texas. This particular TDY came at the worst possible time for me to be anywhere other than home with my wife, because she was pregnant and the baby was due to be born sometime during that TDY. I tried to get out of it, but the Army was having none of that.

Lydia and I had been married almost six years. Most of them were good years. The bad parts came when I had to go TDY and she stayed home.

Lydia and I were not lifelong sweethearts or friends. We met at DMV one day when I was getting my car registered. She was getting her license renewed.

We were sitting next to each other waiting for our numbers to be called, so we started chatting. One thing led to another and pretty soon we exchanged phone numbers. A week later, we had our first date, and a month after that we spent our first night together.

Lydia was not a raving beauty, but she had classic good looks that made my insides turn to mush. She could just look at me and my heart melted. Her body was also classic. Most men ogle any woman with a great body, and I watched as both men and women stared when she walked by. At first, I felt pride as I watched them watching her, but as time went by it got old. I began to regard them as leeches, thinking of her only a sex object. I came to realize that it was something I was going to have to deal with.

Lydia, on the other hand, took it all in stride. "Let them look, sweetie," she said. "It's no big deal. As the old saying goes, 'you can look, but you better not touch'."

'You bet your sweet ass they better not touch,' I thought every time she said it.

She worked very hard to keep her body looking the way it did. I helped her. We spent three evenings a week at the gym, we ran in the park, we hiked; we even watched our diet. I actually forgot the last time I had a meal which included red meat.

Watching her get dressed, or better yet, undressed, was always thrilling for me. Each time she just nonchalantly tossed off an article of clothing revealing part of her bare skin, my heart skipped a beat, and I never tired of it.

When the TDY started, I heard, "I give you my personal guarantee that I will do everything in my power to get you home before the baby is born," from my CO (Commanding Officer). And he did. He had arranged that I would be on the first plane back to the States when the exercise was over.

I had packed my gear and was on my way to the plane. I called Lydia, who told me she thought she would be going to the hospital in the next couple of days.

"The timing should be perfect, then, because I'm on my way home," I told her. We ended the call with 'I love you.'

It was dusk and I was on my way to the airport and a deer ran onto the road in front of us. My driver swerved to avoid it and the next thing I knew I woke up in a military hospital in Frankfurt. I had a broken right arm, right leg, three broken ribs on my tight side, and my right lung had collapsed. I was so drugged up that I didn't know who or where I was.

When I started to become a bit more lucid, I began asking questions. "How long have I been here?" I asked my nurse.

"Five days."

"Is my wife here?"

"No, sir."

"Where is she?"

"She hasn't been here, sir, but your CO notified her right after you first arrived so she knows what happened."

"Where's my phone?"

She found it among my personal belongings and I called Lydia.

"Are you okay?" were her first words.

"Never mind me. How are you and the baby?"

She started crying. "We lost the baby, Fred. I'm so sorry."

I was too stunned to speak. Finally, I asked. "Are you okay?"

"I think so. I'm home, but they don't want me to travel, otherwise I would be with you."

"What happened?" I asked.

"Nobody knows for sure. Everything seemed to be fine until I heard one of the nurses say 'uh-oh' then everybody got excited. I still don't really understand it, but they tried to explain that it was something about the umbilical cord."

"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked.

There was a long silence while we both struggled with our thoughts and emotions.

"Physically, I'm fine, but emotionally, I'm a wreck. When are you coming home?"

"I don't know. They haven't given me any idea."

"Do you want me to try to come over?"

"No. No. Stay there and take care of yourself."

Two weeks later, they flew me home in a Medevac plane. Lydia met me and went with me to the Fort Hood hospital. She was still emotionally a wreck, but our being together seemed to help both of us. I asked her if she had named the child.

"I did. I named her Hope." At that, we both cried.

I was in hospital for two more weeks before I was released for limited duty. Limited duty generally meant that you didn't have to go to "the field" and train. That would have been very difficult because my arm and leg were still in casts. Another couple of weeks before they came off.

Time went by and things were going smoothly both in our marriage and my career. Two years after we lost our baby, we were reassigned to Heidelberg, Germany. We enjoyed three years there and travelled all over Europe. While there, I was promoted to Major. When our three years were up, we were transferred to Fort Lewis, WA. Being a Major, we were assigned Field grade Officer Quarters. They were much better than Company Grade Quarters and they had garages, not just carports. (Company Grade meant Second Lieutenant, First Lieutenant, and Captain. Field Grade were Majors and above.)

When we were moving into quarters at Lewis, all of the stuff we had taken to Germany with us had been shipped back. We were in the process of unpacking those boxes, plus the ones we had stored and not taken with us. There were boxes stacked in every room.

Lydia had gone to the Officers club to attend a 'Newcomers' meeting. There, she could meet other wives and start developing new friendships.

While she was gone, I stayed in our quarters working on unpacking and arranging things. I used the box cutter to open one of the many boxes and started taking stuff out of it. It was a box we had stored while we were in Germany. About halfway down, the was a small wooden box I hadn't remembered seeing before. I put it on a stack of boxes and opened it. My life changed forever.

It contained a small stack of envelopes with a pink ribbon around it. I slid the ribbon off and picked up the top envelope. It was unsealed, so I opened it. Inside was an official document with the title 'Certificate of Live Birth' printed across the top. As I looked at the document, my mind started to fog up. It said that a 7lb 6oz baby girl who was 19 inches long was born alive and it gave the date. It was the same date that Lydia told me our child was stillborn. The given name of the child was Hope. It went on to say that the mother's name was Lydia Jane Sadler nee Johnston. Where it called for the father's name the entry 'Unknown' had been entered. At the bottom of the certificate, there were two very small inked footprints.

I staggered backward and literally fell onto the sofa and stayed there for a long time looking at the document. I left it on the sofa, stood, and went to the stack of envelopes. I picked up the next envelope. It, too, was unsealed. I took out the multi-page document it contained. It was an adoption certification. I read it several times. The gist of it was that the female child named Hope, born to Lydia Sadler, was given for adoption and all parental rights were forfeit. It went on to say that, "in that the identity of the birth father is unknown, his permission was not required."

It further said that the name and location of the adopted family was to remain confidential and absolutely no contact between the adopted family and Mrs. Sadler was permitted.

I went through the rest of the stack and it was mostly letters from me.

I was in total shock. This had to be the biggest lie in the history of lies. My mind wouldn't stop coming up with questions. This was not something you did overnight; it took planning... or so I thought. If she thought I was going to be home for the birth, had she already planned the adoption? Father 'Unknown' If I wasn't the father who was? Apparently, even she didn't know. We had been married six years. How many men had she slept with during that time? Did she know?

I felt sick to my stomach.

I managed to regain enough composure to put everything back where it was. I even repacked and retaped the box everything was in. It was while I was retaping the box that I saw 'Lydia's papers and childhood memories' written in Magic Marker on four sides. Had I seen that, I would most definitely not have opened it. She must have known that. Even in a marriage, we need some private thoughts and space. I moved some other boxes and put that box among them trying to make it look like I hadn't seen it.

I went outside to sit on the rear deck and breathe some fresh air because I was suffocating inside.

What do I do now? How do I even bring it up? I was lost. My mind was an absolute blank on where to go and how to get there. I needed advice. If I went to my parents, they would explode and try to kill Lydia. I was their only child, therefore their only hope, I realized the irony, Hope, for a grandchild.

I could go to her parents, I supposed, but that prospect didn't fill me with confidence. We had no close friends. Moving around so much and meeting so many different people in the military was hard on both families and friendships.

I was still there when she came home. She found me outside.

"Hi, sweetie." She kissed me on my cheek. "How much did you get done?"

"Enough." I said rather curtly. I was rarely short or curt when speaking to her, so I could feel her looking down at me. She stayed there for a few more minutes before going inside.

It was probably another hour before I went in. The box with "Lydia's papers and childhood memories" was gone.

"We've been invited to a 'Welcome Wagon' get together on Saturday."

"Okay."

"The Simpson's from Heidelberg are here. Do you remember them?"

"Not really."

He was a Major in G-2 and I played Bridge with her. Jim and Fran are their names."

"Oh, yeah, I remember."

She came over to me. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?"

'Is something wrong?' I thought. 'You bet your ass something's wrong and I intend to find out what it is.' "No, I'm just a little off today, I suppose."

"Okay. What would you like for dinner? Or would you prefer going to the 'O' (Officers) Club."

"I'm not hungry. I think I'll lie down." I did, fully clothed on our bed.

Sometime before she joined me, I fell asleep. It had to be late, because I was still wide awake at one when I looked at the clock.

I slept until nine, another thing I rarely did. I took a shower and went downstairs. As per our regular routine, she had coffee ready.

"Breakfast?" she asked.

"No thank you. Just coffee."

Another rarity. I usually had a full breakfast.

She sat across from me. "Okay. Something's wrong. Tell me and maybe I can help."

"I just have a lot to think about," I said as I stood, took my coffee to the sink, poured it out and headed for the garage.

"You know I'm here when you need me," she said as I left.

I drove over to the golf course, parked my car, and went to the 19th hole, which was the bar, snack bar, and restaurant at the end of the golf course. I ordered two eggs over medium and corned beef hash. I even had a rare cup of coffee that wasn't decaf. It used to be my favorite breakfast until Lydia changed my eating habits. Beef in any form or by any name, was an absolute no-no with her, but I ordered it anyway.

I managed to eat most of it and sat on the deck as the golfers finished the 18th hole and came in.

It was mid-afternoon when I went home. She had made a lot of progress in emptying boxes and making the place a home. I looked around and wondered what it would be like with a five-year-old daughter running around. I barely made it to the bathroom before losing my eggs and hash.

I still had my head in the commode when I felt her hand on my back. All of a sudden, I hated her. "Get away from me," I almost yelled before putting my head back and losing more breakfast.

I hadn't thrown-up in years. Not since getting drunk at my high school senior prom.

When I was finished, I went upstairs, rinsed my mouth out, and brushed my teeth. She was sitting in the living room with a tissue in her hand. It appeared she had been crying. She watched as I walked past her and headed for the garage again. I was backing my car out when she appeared in my rear-view mirror.

"I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong," she said as I continued backing. She saw I wasn't going to stop and she moved.

I drove over to my unit and went to my office. No one was there except the duty officer. I sat at my desk and tried to work, but my heart wasn't in it.

It was midnight when I went home. She was in bed reading. I undressed and took a shower. "I'm sleeping downstairs," I announced as I walked out and closed the door.

I had just turned on the TV and settled on the sofa, when she came in, picked up the remote, turned the TV off and glared at me. "That's enough bullshit. Tell me what's wrong so I can either help you or I'm leaving. Which is it? I've done nothing wrong, so I will not tolerate you yelling at me when I try to help or having to jump out of your way when you try to run me down."

I reached over, took the remote out of her hand and turned the TV back on. "Have a nice trip," I said.

She was gone in less than an hour. Never had we spoken to each other like that, and never had she threatened to leave, much less actually do it.

I got up and started searching for the box. I found it in the basement under some other boxes. I opened it, found the small wooden box, took out the birth certificate and adoption papers, made copies of them and returned everything to its place. Since she was gone, I slept in our bed.

I talked to my CO on Monday morning and told him my story. I even showed him the documents. He was as dumbfounded as I was. I had only been in his command for less than a month, so I hadn't really gotten settled in yet. He was probably worried that he had a loser on his hands.

"What do you plan to do?" he asked me.

"I'm not sure."

"Did she say where she was going when she left?"

"No, sir. But she didn't take all of her stuff; especially the box." There was a pause before I spoke again. "I was thinking of trying to locate my daughter, if she is my daughter, and go from there."

"That would be almost impossible, you know. Confidentiality is very important to both sides in adoption cases," he said.

"I understand, but I have to do something and I have to start somewhere and I don't trust her to tell me the truth, anymore." Then I literally jumped up. "Oh, my God, I have an idea. May I have the day off?"

"Certainly." I saluted and ran out of his office and the building to the parking lot, where I jumped in my car and went home. I opened the box, took out the wooden box and dumped the contents on the floor. There it was. A pacifier. Hope must have used it before being taken away. I put the box back together and put the pacifier in a clear plastic bag and sealed it.

I went online trying to find a DNA Laboratory somewhere in the area. There was one in downtown Seattle. I went to our bathroom, but all of Lydia's stuff was gone. I rummaged through the cabinet under the sink and found an old hair brush of hers, put it in another plastic bag along with the bag containing the pacifier and hauled ass to Seattle.

I gave the technician, her name was Margie, the pacifier and she looked at it. "It has been a long time so there might not be any DNA left on it, but we can try." She looked at the hairbrush, pulled a few hairs from it and said there would be no problem with that. Then she asked me to spit in a bottle. "We'll call you in about three weeks," she said.

I went back to Fort Lewis and home.

I didn't hear from Lydia for another day.

"Hello," I said.

"Are you any better?"

"Better than what?"

"Better than the asshole you were a couple of days ago."

"Nope, same old asshole."

"Then it still isn't safe for me to come home."

"No, it isn't. Try again in three weeks."

"Why three weeks?"

"By then I should know if I'm going to kill you or just divorce you." I ended the call. The phone rang immediately and I ignored it.

The next day when I got home, Lydia was there. She met my car as I drove up the drive. She was livid.

"What do you mean you're either going to kill me or divorce me?"

"Exactly what I said."

"I think I deserve an explanation," she said.

"So do I."

"About what?" she asked.

We were still in the driveway. We weren't quite yelling, but we certainly weren't acting like an Army Officer and his wife are expected to act.

"Are you telling me that there is nothing that you need to explain?" I asked.

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Then there is no HOPE for us," I said placing as much emphasis on the word HOPE as I could.

"What do you mean there's no hope for us? What have I done?" Then it hit her. "Oh, my God. No. Please. No."

"I'll be back in an hour and you better not be here. I'll leave for work in the morning at 6:30. I'll be back at five. All of your stuff better be out of this house by then." I left.

Exactly an hour later, I was back and she was gone. So was the box and some of her clothes.

She tried to call that evening, but after the first time, I blocked her number. It was peaceful the rest of the night.

I was in my car and opening the garage door at exactly 6:30 the next morning. In my rearview mirror stood Lydia again. I backed slowly. Running her over was tempting but I resisted.

"Can't we at least talk?" she said as I continued in reverse. "Please?" Her hands were on the trunk lid and she was moving backward with the car. I said nothing. There was a moving van parked on the street with three men sitting in the cab. I was half way down the drive and still moving.

I saw the men get out of the truck, run over to her and pull her from behind my car. I didn't know if I was happy or sad that they did it.

The house was almost empty when I got home that evening. She had picked out most of the furniture, so she took it. She did leave my favorite chair and the guest bedroom suite. She also left the "everyday" dishes and some pots and pans. She took the good silver and china; and other shit I didn't care about.

The next morning, I called my office and told them I would be late. Then I called Post Housing and made arrangements to have some government furniture brought to my quarters temporarily. I also called the credit union, our stockbroker, our insurance company and anybody else that I could think of and did those mundane 'household' things normally associated with divorce. Then I made an appointment with JAG (Judge Advocate General, the Army lawyers.) I knew they were not allowed to represent me in civilian court, but they could advise me. They confirmed what I suspected. She would get half. We lived in Government housing so we owned no house, but we did have enough in stocks to buy one if we wanted to. Both of our cars were paid for. We had bought them in Germany for a lot less than we would have paid in the States for the same cars.