Those early months were hard — harder than she’d imagined. Clara struggled with feeding, and nights were long and sleepless. Margaret’s back ached, her hands shook, but she refused to give up.
Neighbors who had once doubted her began stopping by with small gifts — diapers, blankets, baby toys. Her quiet house filled with sounds again: Clara’s laughter, lullabies, the clatter of dishes in the sink.
Every milestone, no matter how small, was celebrated — the first smile, the first time Clara rolled over, her first soft “Nana.” Margaret would kiss her forehead and whisper, “You’re my reason for waking up.”
An Unexpected Knock
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