My father nodded. “We’ll help you.”
I was overwhelmed with relief. I believed they had finally accepted my decision and would allow me to bring my baby home.
I found part-time work at a bakery, and my mother made room in a drawer for the baby’s clothes. My father even asked whether we needed a crib. At night, I taught myself to crochet using a library book. My first baby bootie looked crooked, so I unraveled it and tried again.
I chose the name Fabian and whispered it to my growing belly.Get Writing Tools
“Hello, Fabian,” I would say softly. “I can’t wait to meet you.”
For the first time in weeks, I felt hopeful.
A few weeks later, Fabian was born. He was warm, tiny, and beautiful. When the nurse placed him in my arms, every fear I had carried disappeared beneath the overwhelming love I felt for him.
