Mother Love

My twins, Mary Lou and Priscilla, were adopted as newborns and over the past five years I’ve watched them learn to walk, talk, ride bikes and otherwise blossom into beautiful, thriving children. The only problem I have is that the irritating people they call Mom and Dad always tell everyone their ‘birth mother’ died in the hospital.

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The Scar

The long 13” scar that curved around her belly button running down her stomach was a painful and constant reminder that she could have no children.

On this wondrous day she carried a beautiful infant daughter out the front door of the beat up old hospital and orphanage, knowing that scar would never be a curse again, but a sign telling her that miracles sometimes come in unexpected ways and that she had been specially marked for this gift she now held in her arms, pressed against her heart.

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