The Price of Deceit: How a Woman Chose to Keep Her Family —
I felt compelled to share this tale after frequently reading online accounts of women who deliberately resort to deception in order to preserve their families. These stories often depict a wife unable to conceive with her husband, who then has a child with someone else — sometimes with her husband’s knowledge, but more often secretly. The husband believes the child is his own, while she remains silent in the name of “love” and “happiness.”
Reading these stories fills me with pain and indignation. Yes, life is complicated. There are times when destiny takes away what we value most — the ability to give life. But lies, especially fundamental ones, destroy not only families but also the souls of all involved.
I speak from experience. I spent nine long years battling infertility. Nine years of injections, tests, tears, hopes, and disappointments. My husband and I wanted a child more than anything in the world. I saw how each failed cycle crushed him inside, even as he tried to stay strong for me. And every time someone suggested I secretly find a donor because “your biological clock is ticking,” I burned inside. I looked at my husband and knew: no. I wouldn’t betray him. I wouldn’t lie. Not even for the most sacred reason — motherhood.
You know, once a “friend” told me: “Why go through this? Get pregnant with someone else — he won’t find out. The important thing is the blood matches.” And what if, I replied, tragedy strikes? An accident? An illness? A need for a blood transfusion? Or a transplant? And then the truth would come out. What then?
I would rather be childless than deceitful. But fate chose another path for us. My husband and I adopted a sweet little girl — Daisy. I haven’t regretted it for a moment. She is our daughter. Not by blood, but by love and heart.
There’s a story that still stirs my thoughts. Some old acquaintances seemed like the perfect family. They had twins. He was kind, caring, hardworking. She was beautiful and charming. People envied them. But truth, as it often does, couldn’t stay hidden for long.
One day, the man was diagnosed with congenital infertility. He was devastated. Further tests confirmed it. There were only two possibilities: either the children weren’t his, or a medical miracle had occurred. Sadly, miracles didn’t happen.
He was shattered. Without argument or breaking things, he packed up, left the house, the children, everything… and moved abroad. They say he works in London now. He never saw his wife again. And the children? They learned the truth. And couldn’t forgive. They went to live with their grandparents — their father’s parents. The mother was left alone in a home once filled with children’s laughter.
The worst part was that the children didn’t want to return. They grew up, moved to another city for school, and cut off contact with her. I occasionally hear about her from mutual acquaintances. She still lives alone. Sometimes she’s spotted outside a shop, looking despondent and hunched over. She stays silent, even around those she once considered friends.
I don’t share this tale out of spite. I am a woman too. I understand the ache of not being able to bear a child. The emptiness one feels seeing others with children. But dear ones, lies aren’t the solution. Lies are poison, slowly but surely wrecking everything they touch.
Today’s medicine has advanced. There are options: artificial insemination, IVF, honest donation. There’s adoption. Paths exist where you can find happiness without ruining lives.
I lived through this pain. I lived it honestly. And now, when Daisy calls me “mum,” when she curls up next to me as she sleeps, I know I made the right choices. My conscience is clear. And my husband stands by me, never having lost his trust in me.
Ladies, please, if you’re at such a crossroads — don’t lie. Don’t betray those who love you. Better a bitter truth than a sweet lie that will one day destroy everything. And most importantly, don’t justify betrayal with love. True love doesn’t breed deception. True love is honesty, even when it hurts.
Let this story be a warning. Don’t repeat the mistakes of others. And if fate has taken motherhood from you — it will surely bless you with something else. The most important thing is to keep your soul intact.
