Eight Lost Babies: My Husband's Deadly Secret

The eighth failed pregnancy, and once again Derek Gilbert performed the D&C on me with his own hands.

"Derek, I'm so sorry."

On the operating table, I couldn't hold back the sound of my crying.

His hands never paused, but his voice stayed gentle, soothing.

"Shh. There'll be more chances."

After the procedure, I lay on the hospital bed to rest.

Worried I'd be bored, Derek made a point of handing me his tablet to pass the time.

I hadn't meant to pry into anything of his.

But a message popped up, and before I could stop myself, I'd tapped into it.