Five Years Raising His Love Child: The Blood Type Betrayal

Synopsis

Five years ago, when I was hemorrhaging during a difficult delivery, my husband, Samuel Sherman, was outside the delivery room, collapsed against the wall, pressing his forehead against the floor tiles over and over until blood ran down from his eyebrows. The nurses said he begged for four straight hours until his voice was gone, repeating only one sentence: "Save my wife. Please, save her." Later, the baby was born safely, and I was pulled back from the brink of death. For five years, I gave that child every piece of my heart. I handed over my family's business to Samuel to manage because I was convinced that a man who would beat his own forehead bloody for my sake outside that delivery room was someone worth trusting with my life. This morning, I took my son, Zack Grant, in for his overseas study physical. The nurse handed me the blood type report. Mine: Type O. Zack: Type AB. I stared at those two lines for a full thirty seconds. I was Type O. A Type O mother couldn't have a Type AB child, no matter what the father's blood type was. That was basic biology. We learned it in high school.