Eighteen years ago, grief led me to an unexpected second chance at motherhood. I had just lost my daughter and grandson and was flying home for their funeral when I heard two abandoned infants crying several rows ahead. No one claimed them, and no one comforted them. Without thinking, I stood up and held them both. Their little bodies softened against me, and in that moment, something inside me shifted. When we landed, airport staff and social services searched for a parent, but no one came forward. The emptiness awaiting me at home was unbearable, and those babies had clung to me with a trust that felt like destiny. Three months later, after every background check and home visit imaginable, I adopted them. I named them Ethan and Sophie, and raising them became the light that pulled me out of darkness. Continue reading…
