On the second were medical records belonging to a newborn baby girl.
And on the third page was a name I had never heard before.
“Sarah Miller.”
Robert took a deep breath.
“Emily, your mother has never told you how you came into her life.”
I looked at him in confusion.
“What do you mean?”
It turned out that 29 years earlier, my mother had worked at that very hospital as a nurse.
At the time, a 19-year-old girl named Sarah had been admitted. She had no family and was expecting a baby.
After Sarah gave birth, the doctors discovered a serious health problem. She needed long-term treatment.
During those days, my mother had volunteered to help her, caring for the newborn and visiting Sarah’s hospital room every day.
But a few weeks later, Sarah’s condition worsened, and she was transferred to a specialized hospital far away.
She was afraid she would no longer be able to raise her daughter.