01:31
I was lying in an ambulance when my husband dragged me onto the sidewalk because his mistress needed my car.
He left me there in labor, took my phone and car keys, and sped away.
The pavement was hot against my bare ankle, and the open ambulance doors threw a hard white light across the curb while another contraction tightened around my stomach.
For several seconds, I could not make sense of what had just happened.
One moment, a paramedic had been fastening a strap across the stretcher and telling me to keep breathing.
The next, my husband was leaning into the ambulance, arguing that I was “being dramatic” and demanding my keys.
I remember staring at him because the request was so ridiculous that my brain refused to accept it.
I was in active labor.
An ambulance had been called for me.
And my husband was worried about my SUV.
“No,” I told him.
I thought that would be the end of it.
Instead, he reached past the paramedic and grabbed my arm.
The paramedic immediately told him to let go, but my husband pulled harder.
My hip slid off the stretcher first.
Then my hospital bag dropped beside me, hit the pavement, and tipped over.
A folded baby blanket slipped out and landed near the curb.
I begged him to stop.
He barely looked at me.
His phone was pressed against his ear, and through the confusion I could hear a woman’s voice on the other end asking how much longer he was going to be.
My husband sounded irritated with me, not with her.
“My wife has the car,” he said.
One of the paramedics stepped between us and ordered him to move away from the ambulance.
The other reached toward me, trying to keep me from falling completely onto the sidewalk as another contraction hit.
My husband did step back.
For one hopeful second, I thought he had finally realized what he was doing.
Then he crouched beside my hospital bag.
He reached into the side pocket, pulled out my phone, found my car keys, and stood.
“Give those back,” I said.
He ignored me.
I called his name once as he started toward my SUV.
He stopped just long enough to look over his shoulder.
The expression on his face hurt almost as much as the physical pain.
He looked at me as though I had embarrassed him.
As though I were the problem because my labor had interfered with whatever plans he had made.
