I knew I was adopted as a child. My parents never concealed it. They told me they picked me, waited a long time for a kid, and loved me immediately.
My house was nice. Loving parents. We weren’t affluent, yet I was never deprived. My mom prepared my meals and my dad taught me to cycle. I never wanted to find my biological parents. Parents just knew my biological mother was young and made the difficult decision to offer me a better life.
I thanked her. If you had asked me to locate her the day before my 18th birthday, I would have said no.
Then she found me.
My parents made pancakes, bacon, and orange juice for my birthday breakfast. A doorknock altered everything when I was in pajamas.
A exhausted lady stood there, crying. She looked at me like a ghost. So she said, “Emma?”
I hesitated. “Who are you?”
She shakily inhaled.
Your true mother. Your adoptive parents lied. Join me before it’s too late.”
My stomach sank. As if drained dry, the room seemed smaller.
Behind me, my mom spoke firmly and defensively. “Who are you?”
Her stare was unwavering. I was her only focus. “Please, Emma. No time to explain anything here. I swear to speak the truth.”
I retreated. Mom joined me, and dad appeared. His face was pallid. “I think you should leave,” he murmured, tensely.
The woman’s eyes showed sorrow and despair. She paused, then took a folded paper from her pocket. “If you doubt me, see this.” She set it on the threshold and left. “Please, Emma. Just meet me. One talk. I just ask that.”
She turned and left, vanishing down the street before I could absorb what occurred.
I leaned down to get the paper. Parents didn’t stop me. My hands trembled as I unfurled.
Birth certificate.
My name was on it. My birthdate. Under “Mother,” the name differed from what my folks informed me. On the reverse was a hospital bracelet with my name and a date one day earlier than my birth certificate.
What’s this? My voice whispered.
My folks were slow to respond. My dad stroked his hair while my mom looked ready to weep. Finally, he sighed. Emma, we always wanted to protect you. But maybe you should know the whole truth.”
The whole truth? My head spun. “What truth?”
Mom grabbed for my hand, but I declined. Her voice broke as she revealed, “We didn’t adopt you the way we said we did. Not via an agency.”
I regarded them. Then how?
Father inhaled deeply. Your biological mother was in difficulty. Dangerous problem. She pleaded with us to take you in. She stated they were hunting for her and she couldn’t protect you. She refused to raise you running. Our promise was to raise you and never let her locate you. It was your only defense.”
It felt impossible to breathe. “She didn’t give me up because she didn’t want me?”
“No,” mom murmured. “She loved you and gave you up.”
Words strike me hard. My sixteenth birthday was unraveling everything I had thought my whole life. All along, my true mother was there. She withheld something, not because she didn’t want me.
Or someone.
Looked down at the paper again. The birth certificate says Lillian Carter.
I must see her. I needed to know.
When I left the home that afternoon, my folks didn’t object. I was told to be cautious. I discovered the little café on the outskirts of town she wrote on the back of the paper as our meeting point. She was already seated at a corner table, gripping a coffee cup like it was her only anchor.
Though sorrowful, she smiled at me. “You came.”
So I sat across from her. Give me the truth. Every bit.”
Lillian nodded, gasping. Was young when I had you. That wasn’t the issue. Your father was the issue.”
My heart hammered. “Who was he?”
Swallowed hard. I should never have trusted him. He posed danger. I didn’t recognize it until it was too late. After I became pregnant, I attempted to leave him, but he wouldn’t. I knew I had to get you away from him when you were born.”
I held the table edge. “And now? Is he…?”
Face darkened, Lillian. I came for it. Emma—he found me. After years, he found me. If he knows me, he’ll find you.”
A shiver raced down my spine. He wants what?
Shaking her head. “No idea. But I won’t allow him touch you.”
I should have been scared. Maybe part of me was. But more, I felt resolve. My my life, I thought my biological mother gave me away. Now I understood she battled for my safety. Her struggle continued.
I grabbed her hand across the table. “You’re not alone.”
I saw my mother for the first time in eighteen years while she cried.
My parents and I worked with Lillian to be safe in the days that followed. After years of concealment, she was no longer alone. We reported. Protection was taken. She stopped glancing behind her after almost two decades.
The ultimate result wasn’t only discovering my roots. It was about comprehending love. Love went beyond biology. This was about sacrifice, choices, and doing whatever it needed to protect those who cared most.
More than one mother did it for me.
Some truths alter everything. However, sometimes they lead you to your destiny.
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