Before the nurse took him for a routine checkup, I tucked my grandmother’s silver cross into his blanket. One arm of the cross had a small nick that made it unmistakable.
“So you’ll always have something from me,” I whispered.
I waited for my baby to return, imagining the life we would build together. Instead, my parents entered the hospital room carrying a folder.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Adoption papers,” my father replied.
I stared at them in disbelief. “You promised to help me! You said I could bring him home.”
My mother looked away. “This is the best thing for your future.”Track Pregnancy
I finally understood that their kindness had been a trick. They had allowed me to trust them, only to wait until I was exhausted and vulnerable to force their decision upon me.
“I’m not signing anything,” I said through my tears.
