😲 I felt as though I was in a dense fog during the birthing process. It everything seemed like a sticky nightmare. However, something genuinely startling surfaced twenty years later.
😲 The flashes of light, the shouting, the intense pain, the chilly hands of the medical staff—it was all like a bad dream. Then a baby’s cries. and shadows. In my hospital room, I awoke. Lucas, my newborn baby, was at my side. I believed it to be my only child.
As soon as he learned I was expecting, my spouse left me. Lucas was raised by me alone, and I tried my hardest to provide him with everything I could, even if it wasn’t much. He developed into a pleasant and intelligent young guy. And I was certain I knew everything there was to know about my life after twenty years.
That is, until we entered a bookstore together one day.
I stayed by the classics, while Lucas went to the shelf with the textbooks. Then all of a sudden I saw him, or someone who resembled him. He was reading a book as he stood on the other side of the room. Same appearance, same demeanor. Lucas, meantime, was across the store. My eyes were unbelievable.
My heart began to race. I moved in closer. Something flared in the boy’s eyes as he gazed at me. Marco was his name. April 18th is the birthday. The same as Lucas
For the first time in twenty years, I ventured to open the old documents when I came home. I discovered a note that read, “Second newborn — deceased,” among the papers.
I hadn’t been allowed to see him. He didn’t make it, they informed me. I couldn’t confirm anything because I wasn’t fully conscious. I believed what they said.
I dialed the hospital archive with shaking hands. I flipped everything over till the reality came out: something had gone wrong. They altered the name tags. Although it wasn’t mine, one baby did pass away.
I got in touch with the people who had brought Marco up. They were taken aback. They had cherished the boy they had brought home. He was now their real son.
We agreed to get together. Marco, Lucas, me, and his adoptive parents—all of us. It felt awkward at first.
We feared saying too much and detracting from one another’s life experiences. However, as we talked and cried, something within of us started to change.
We now see one another frequently. We occasionally travel out of town and have dinner together. We are an odd, out-of-the-ordinary family, but we are real. Marco refers to me as his “second mom.”
I can see that he was always mine when I look at him. It simply took him a bit longer to get back to me.
Life takes a detour sometimes. The path will always lead home, though, if you have space in your heart.
