I had long discussed having more children with my husband. We were told I couldn’t have additional children after my son’s birth five years ago due to problems.
Our longing persisted. Adoption was our final choice.
We visited a local foster home after weeks of paperwork and interviews. The director explained the process, expectations, and emotions. She then escorted us to the leisure room where kids were playing.
Took our time. Interacted with kids. On the floor. Laughed. Listened. That room was full of beautiful people longing to be cherished.
I heard a small voice behind me say, “Are you my mom now?” while helping a youngster stack blocks.
I turned slowly.
A five- or six-year-old youngster with my son’s eyes stood there. Same hair. Same crooked smile. Once, I thought my son had found his way here.
It wasn’t simply the face.
It was his posture. Left cheek dimple. I spotted it: a little scar on his eyebrow, exactly where my kid received his when he went off a swing last summer.
Unable to breathe.
My husband was frozen beside me.
What’s your name? Just holding it together, I asked.
The youngster smiled and added, “They called me Milo… but I think I had another name.”
It felt like my universe changed. Kneeled and looked closer. Not merely a comparable boy. He matched my kid Noah. Identical.
Feeling dizzy. My thoughts raced.
My husband’s eyes were wide with disbelief. The speaker murmured, “It’s like he is Noah.”
That night, I barely slept. I kept considering options. Twins? Did I have twins unknowingly? It sounded ludicrous, impossible. The likeness was too strong to ignore.
I returned to foster care alone the next day. I sat with the director and asked about Milo’s birth certificate and history.
Shaking her head. “He was abandoned at a rest stop two years ago. No ID. No leads. We’ve tried everything.”
Two years ago.
Just turned three, Noah. I sought unusual memories. Any signs. Nothing made sense. But something tugged at my heart. Not a coincidence.
I requested to foster Milo to figure things out with him. We got approval after considerable legal wrangling.
When Milo arrived home, Noah was confused. “Why does he resemble me?” Not knowing what to say. The only honest thing I could say was “I don’t know, dear. But we’ll discover.”
The boys clicked immediately. They pretended to be old friends. Same mannerisms and laugh. It was like seeing double as my husband and I watched them chase each other around the house.
Milo had a nightmare. In his slumber, he cried “Mama.” I ran in and held his hand near his bed.
“What do you remember before the foster home?” My request was gentle.
Rubbing his eyes. A woman was there. She had brown hair. Smelled like soap and strawberries. She ordered me to travel. Then I woke up alone in a car.”
My stomach twisted.
Can he have been taken?
The concept chilled me. Who’d do that? How would he be abandoned?
A DNA test was ordered. I tried not to hope or assume, but I guess I knew.
The results arrived two weeks later.
Milo was not Noah’s only relative.
Noah’s twin.
Identical. Same day birth. Same mother—me.
Sat down and wept. Way too much. How did this happen? Why did I not know?
I called my former OB-GYN for answers. Her initial confusion was evident. She hushed up.
“Are you sitting?” she inquired.
It turned out I was pregnant with twins. I was fully anesthetized during a challenging emergency delivery. There were issues. I nearly died.
Someone made a choice—or mistake. The only infant discharged to me was Noah. A second infant was sent out for “further care” owing to breathing concerns, according to hospital records. Unfortunately, the recordings were lost. Confused. Doctor retired shortly after.
An attorney was recruited to investigate. Things got murkier as we dug further. Several indicators suggested a previously fired nurse for stealing drugs was involved. Around Milo’s abandonment, she vanished.
The horrible notion was that Milo was seized, possibly trafficked, but his captors gave up and left him at that rest stop.
Felt nauseous.
But I was so grateful, it hurt.
Despite all odds, we found him. He discovered us.
Milo was adopted six months later. Our custody was expedited after the judge accepted DNA evidence.
He’s been here since. Every day, I wonder at how fate or something bigger brought him back.
The boys are doing well. They know the complete tale, as much as we allow. They call each other “my other me.” They quarrel, laugh, and share secrets like twins. Beautiful. Messy. Real.
I enjoy coffee on the porch while watching them play in the yard. I consider how close we came to ignorance. How one foster home visit changed everything.
Things are strange in life. It presents inconceivable situations. Things you’d never believe unless they happened to you.
However, life might surprise you if you keep your heart open and love in any form.
We adopted a child and discovered our lost son.
Wondering if miracles still happen? They do.
Sometimes they call you “Mom.”
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