The Price of Deception: How One Woman Chose to Preserve Her Family—
I chose to write this story after frequently coming across confessions from women online who, in an effort to preserve their families, consciously resorted to deception. Stories where a wife couldn’t conceive with her husband but had a child with another man—sometimes with his knowledge, more often secretly. The husband believed the child was his own son or daughter. Meanwhile, the wife remained silent in the name of “love” and “happiness.”
As I read these accounts, I felt a surge of pain and indignation. Yes, life can be harsh. Sometimes, fate takes away the greatest gift—our ability to give life. But deceit, especially something so fundamental, destroys not just families but the souls of everyone involved.
I speak from experience. I battled infertility for nine long years. Nine years of injections, examinations, tears, hopes, and disappointments. My husband and I wanted a child more than anything in the world. I saw each failed cycle torment him inside, though he tried to stay strong for my sake. And each time someone close suggested I quietly find a donor saying, “You’re a woman; your biological clock is ticking” — I felt a storm inside. I looked at my husband and knew: no. I wouldn’t betray him. I wouldn’t lie. Even for something as sacred as motherhood.
Once, a “friend” told me, “Why torment yourself? Get pregnant by someone else—it’ll be fine. He’ll never know. As long as the blood type matches.” But, I would reply, what if tragedy strikes? An accident? An illness? A blood transfusion? What if a transplant is needed, and the truth comes out? What then?
I’d rather remain childless than deceitful. But a different path was granted to us. My husband and I adopted a little girl—Margaret. I never regretted it for a moment. She is our daughter. Ours—not by blood, but by love, by heart.
Here’s an account that still haunts my thoughts. Our old acquaintances seemed like the perfect family. They had twins. He was kind, caring, hardworking. She was beautiful and charming. People looked at them with envy. 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 the diagnosis. There were two possibilities: either the children weren’t his, or a medical miracle had occurred. Sadly, miracles didn’t happen.
He was shattered. He didn’t rage or break things—he simply packed his belongings, left the home, the children, everything… and moved abroad. Rumor has it he now works in London. He never saw his wife again. And the children? They learned the truth. They couldn’t forgive. They went to live with their grandparents—his parents. She stayed alone, in a house that once echoed with children’s laughter.
The worst part was that the children didn’t want to return. They grew up and moved to another city for school, without maintaining contact with her. Occasionally, I hear about her from mutual acquaintances. She still lives alone, often seen at a shop—with a vacant look, a hunched back. Silent. Even with those she once called friends.
I share this not out of schadenfreude. I am a woman too. I know the pain of being unable to conceive. Seeing other people’s children and feeling a void inside. But, my dear ones, deceit is not a remedy. Deceit is a poison that slowly but surely destroys everything it touches.
Today’s medicine has advanced significantly. There’s artificial insemination, IVF, donation—openly and honestly. There’s adoption. There are ways to find happiness without destroying others’ lives.
I went through this pain honestly. Now, when my Margaret calls me “mum,” when she snuggles up to me in her sleep, I know—I did the right thing. My conscience is clear. And beside me is my husband, who never lost trust in me.
Dear women, please, if you face such a choice—don’t lie. Don’t betray those who love you. A bitter truth is better than a sweet lie that will eventually destroy everything. Most importantly—never justify betrayal with love. True love doesn’t breed deceit. True love is honesty, even when it hurts.
Let this story be a warning. Don’t repeat others’ mistakes. If fate has taken motherhood from you, it will surely grant you something else. The key is to keep your soul intact.
