I Gave Birth Alone. Then I Left Him.

Eight months pregnant, I went into premature labor. As they wheeled me into the delivery room, I frantically called my husband, Owen.

The call connected, and I heard the loud, thumping music of a bar in the background.

His new colleague, Eve, answered the phone.

"Karen, Owen's had too much to drink. I'm taking care of him, so don't worry."

Before I could even speak, Owen's voice drifted over, clearly unaware the call was connected.

"Text my wife back. Tell her I'm working late on a project tonight and she shouldn't wait up."

Eve chuckled, her hand over the phone. "Got it, Owen."