I Woke Up From a Coma Pregnant But My Husband Had a Vasectomy Years Ago

“They’ll argue you were conscious enough to consent but sedated enough to not remember clearly. They’ll suggest you and Philip had a prior relationship your husband didn’t know about. They’ll use the fact that you can’t clearly remember the assaults against you, painting your testimony as unreliable or confused. It’s going to be brutal, Natalie. You need to be prepared for that.”

The courtroom was smaller than I expected, with harsh fluorescent lighting that made everyone look sickly. Philip sat at the defense table in a suit, his hair cut short in military style, looking exactly like David—except for the expression on his face.

Where David’s eyes showed pain and betrayal, Philip’s showed calculation, cold assessment of the situation and how to manipulate it to his advantage. His attorney, a woman named Christine Mallerie with a reputation for aggressive defense tactics, barely glanced at me during her opening arguments.

Mallerie painted a picture of a loving brother-in-law devoted to his comatose sister-in-law’s recovery. She showed the security footage of Philip entering my room, sitting beside me, holding my hand.

She played audio of him reading to me, his voice gentle and caring. Then she introduced the bombshell.

“Mrs. Garrett had been reducing her sedation in the days leading up to the alleged assaults. Medical records show she was responsive to verbal commands, able to squeeze hands on request, showing clear signs of emerging consciousness. The defense’s position is that any physical contact that occurred was consensual, initiated by a woman aware enough to make her wishes known through non-verbal communication.”

I felt sick listening to her twist the facts into something that made me complicit in my own assault. The prosecutor, District Attorney William Becker, stood to object.

“Even if Mrs. Garrett showed signs of emerging consciousness, she was still legally incapacitated and unable to provide informed consent. She had a breathing tube, was confined to a hospital bed, and was under continuous medication that impaired her judgment and memory. The law is clear that sexual contact with someone in that condition constitutes assault regardless of perceived responsiveness.”

Judge Carol Henderson reviewed the medical records carefully. She was a woman in her 60s, known for being fair but tough.

After 20 minutes of silence, except for the sound of pages turning, she looked up.

“I’m allowing this case to proceed to trial. There’s sufficient evidence that a crime may have been committed. However, I’m also ordering a full neurological evaluation of Mrs. Garrett to determine her capacity for consciousness and consent during the period in question. Until we have expert testimony on whether she was capable of understanding and communicating consent, I’m not dismissing anything. Bail remains at $500,000, already posted. Trial date is set for eight weeks from today.”

Eight weeks—I’d be 32 weeks pregnant by then, obviously showing a constant visual reminder of the crime we were prosecuting. David held my hand as we left the courthouse, reporters shouting questions we didn’t answer.

His face was set in determined lines.

“We’ll get through this. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

But I could feel the distance between us growing—a chasm created by circumstances neither of us could control. He loved me; I believed that.

But could he love a child conceived through his twin brother’s assault of his unconscious wife?

The neurological evaluation was conducted by Dr. Raymond Park, a specialist in consciousness disorders and coma recovery. He reviewed six weeks of medical records, interviewed my medical team, and conducted extensive cognitive testing on me.

His report, delivered in a conference room full of lawyers and experts, was clinically brutal.

“Mrs. Garrett was in a state of minimal consciousness during the period in question. She showed some responsiveness to external stimuli but lacked the cognitive capacity for complex decision-making or informed consent. Any movement or response during this time would have been reflexive or instinctual, not indicative of conscious choice or agreement.”

Ms. Mallerie immediately challenged the findings.

“Dr. Park, isn’t it true that patients in minimal consciousness states can still experience pleasure and pain, can still respond to touch in ways that indicate preference?”

He adjusted his glasses.

“They can show physiological responses, yes. But response to stimuli is not the same as consent. A person in Mrs. Garrett’s condition would not have had the executive function necessary to understand the nature of sexual contact, the implications of such contact, or the ability to refuse unwanted advances. Any sexual activity with someone in that state is, by definition, assault.”

The defense tried another angle.

“What about prior relationship establishment? If Mrs. Garrett and the defendant had engaged in consensual relations before her coma, couldn’t her responses be interpreted as continuation of that established intimacy?”

Dr. Park’s expression hardened.

“There’s no evidence of any prior inappropriate relationship. And even if there had been, prior consent does not equal ongoing consent, especially when one party is medically incapacitated. This is basic medical ethics and legal standard. What you’re suggesting is that unconscious people can be sexually active with prior partners without current consent.”

“That’s right,” The words hung in the courtroom.

Philip shifted in his seat, and for the first time, I saw something crack in his composed facade—fear, maybe, or realization that his defense was crumbling. The prosecutor seized the moment.

“Your Honor, the defense is essentially arguing that my client was conscious enough to consent but too unconscious to remember consenting. That’s an impossible standard that would make prosecuting any assault of an incapacitated victim impossible. The evidence is clear: the defendant had unsupervised access to a vulnerable patient, that patient became pregnant during that access period, DNA confirms the defendant as the father, and medical experts confirm the victim could not have provided meaningful consent. This is assault, period.”

Judge Henderson called a recess. When we reconvened two hours later, her decision was unequivocal.

“This case is going to trial. The evidence supports a reasonable belief that sexual assault occurred. The defendant will remain free on bail with the conditions that he have no contact with the victim or her family, surrender his passport, and report to pre-trial services weekly. Trial begins in six weeks.”

The gavel struck, and Philip’s parents were crying in the back of the courtroom. David sat stone-faced beside me, his hands squeezing mine so hard it hurt.

The weeks leading up to trial were a special kind of torture. My body grew with a pregnancy I hadn’t chosen, carrying a baby I had complicated feelings about.

The twins watched me with worried eyes, seeing their mother change shape with a sibling they weren’t sure they wanted. David tried to be supportive, but I could feel him pulling away emotionally, unable to reconcile his love for me with his horror at what his brother had done.

Our intimacy died completely. He couldn’t touch me without thinking about Philip touching me first, violating me while I was helpless.