My (32M) Wife (24F) Got Pregnant by Another Man, So I Secretly Gave Her Thalidomide During Her Pregnancy – Now She’s Divorced, Broke, and a Single Mom to a Limbless Baby
I never thought I’d be capable of something like this. But here I am, typing this out, knowing I’ve crossed a line that can never be uncrossed. I’m not looking for sympathy. I’m not even sure why I’m posting this. Maybe it’s because I need to confess, even if it’s to strangers on the internet. Maybe it’s because I want someone to tell me I’m the monster I know I am.
My wife and I had what I thought was a perfect marriage. She was young, beautiful, and full of life. I worked hard to provide for us, and I thought we were building a future together. Then, a few months ago, she told me she was pregnant. I was thrilled—we’d been trying for a baby for a while. But something felt off. She was distant, secretive, and always on her phone.
I’m not proud of it, but I went through her phone one night. What I found destroyed me. Texts, photos, and plans with her coworker. The worst part? A message where she told him she was pregnant with *his* child. My heart shattered. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I had given her everything, and this was how she repaid me?
I didn’t confront her. Not right away. Instead, I started planning. I wanted her to feel the pain I was feeling. I wanted her to suffer like I was suffering. That’s when I stumbled across thalidomide. For those who don’t know, it’s a drug that was used in the 1950s and 60s to treat morning sickness, but it caused severe birth defects. I know how awful that sounds, but in my twisted state of mind, it felt like justice.
I managed to get my hands on some through a shady online pharmacy. I crushed it up and started putting small doses in her food and drinks. She never noticed. Every time she smiled, every time she talked about the baby, I felt a sick sense of satisfaction. I wanted her to feel the betrayal I felt. I wanted her to see the consequences of her actions.
The pregnancy progressed, and everything seemed normal—until the ultrasound. The doctor found abnormalities. Severe ones. My wife was devastated. She cried for days, blaming herself, wondering what she could have done differently. I comforted her, told her it wasn’t her fault, all while knowing it was *me*. I had done this. I had destroyed our future.
The baby was born last week. The deformities are... indescribable. My wife is inconsolable. She barely sleeps, barely eats. She keeps saying she doesn’t understand how this could have happened.
But here’s where things took another turn. I couldn’t just let her walk away unscathed. I demanded a paternity test. She tried to talk me out of it, saying it was unnecessary, that she was sure the baby was mine. But I stood my ground. When the results came back, it was confirmed: the baby wasn’t mine.
I confronted her with the results, accusing her of paternity fraud. She broke down, begging for forgiveness, but it was too late. I filed for divorce and made sure she got nothing. I moved all our assets into crypto, leaving her with nothing but the baby and the medical bills.
Now, she’s a single mom to a limbless baby, struggling to make ends meet. She’s lost everything—her marriage, her financial stability, and the life she thought she was going to have. And me? I’m free. I’ve moved on. But the guilt... it’s always there. I know what I did was monstrous. I know I’ll carry this with me for the rest of my life.
But I don’t regret it. Not really. She betrayed me in the worst way possible, and now she’s living with the consequences.
**TL;DR:** My wife cheated on me and got pregnant by another man. I secretly gave her thalidomide during her pregnancy, causing severe birth defects in the baby. I demanded a paternity test, confirmed the baby wasn’t mine, and left her divorced, broke, and a single mom to a limbless baby. I’m a monster, but I don’t regret it.
I never thought I’d be capable of something like this. But here I am, typing this out, knowing I’ve crossed a line that can never be uncrossed. I’m not looking for sympathy. I’m not even sure why I’m posting this. Maybe it’s because I need to confess, even if it’s to strangers on the internet. Maybe it’s because I want someone to tell me I’m the monster I know I am.
My wife and I had what I thought was a perfect marriage. She was young, beautiful, and full of life. I worked hard to provide for us, and I thought we were building a future together. Then, a few months ago, she told me she was pregnant. I was thrilled—we’d been trying for a baby for a while. But something felt off. She was distant, secretive, and always on her phone.
I’m not proud of it, but I went through her phone one night. What I found destroyed me. Texts, photos, and plans with her coworker. The worst part? A message where she told him she was pregnant with *his* child. My heart shattered. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I had given her everything, and this was how she repaid me?
I didn’t confront her. Not right away. Instead, I started planning. I wanted her to feel the pain I was feeling. I wanted her to suffer like I was suffering. That’s when I stumbled across thalidomide. For those who don’t know, it’s a drug that was used in the 1950s and 60s to treat morning sickness, but it caused severe birth defects. I know how awful that sounds, but in my twisted state of mind, it felt like justice.
I managed to get my hands on some through a shady online pharmacy. I crushed it up and started putting small doses in her food and drinks. She never noticed. Every time she smiled, every time she talked about the baby, I felt a sick sense of satisfaction. I wanted her to feel the betrayal I felt. I wanted her to see the consequences of her actions.
The pregnancy progressed, and everything seemed normal—until the ultrasound. The doctor found abnormalities. Severe ones. My wife was devastated. She cried for days, blaming herself, wondering what she could have done differently. I comforted her, told her it wasn’t her fault, all while knowing it was *me*. I had done this. I had destroyed our future.
The baby was born last week. The deformities are... indescribable. My wife is inconsolable. She barely sleeps, barely eats. She keeps saying she doesn’t understand how this could have happened.
But here’s where things took another turn. I couldn’t just let her walk away unscathed. I demanded a paternity test. She tried to talk me out of it, saying it was unnecessary, that she was sure the baby was mine. But I stood my ground. When the results came back, it was confirmed: the baby wasn’t mine.
I confronted her with the results, accusing her of paternity fraud. She broke down, begging for forgiveness, but it was too late. I filed for divorce and made sure she got nothing. I moved all our assets into crypto, leaving her with nothing but the baby and the medical bills.
Now, she’s a single mom to a limbless baby, struggling to make ends meet. She’s lost everything—her marriage, her financial stability, and the life she thought she was going to have. And me? I’m free. I’ve moved on. But the guilt... it’s always there. I know what I did was monstrous. I know I’ll carry this with me for the rest of my life.
But I don’t regret it. Not really. She betrayed me in the worst way possible, and now she’s living with the consequences.
**TL;DR:** My wife cheated on me and got pregnant by another man. I secretly gave her thalidomide during her pregnancy, causing severe birth defects in the baby. I demanded a paternity test, confirmed the baby wasn’t mine, and left her divorced, broke, and a single mom to a limbless baby. I’m a monster, but I don’t regret it.
