My child deserved better than a teenage mother with no money and no plan.
I got back on my feet. I had my own place, a stable income, and solid footing. And then I met Chris three years ago. We recently tied the knot.
He had a daughter named Susan, 12 years old when we first met… 15 now. Chris and his ex-wife had adopted her when she was a baby. Her biological mother had left her at the hospital the day she was born.
Hearing that always dragged me back to the choice I’d made years earlier.
I felt something pull toward Susan from the very first afternoon I spent with her. Something I told myself was just tenderness, just the natural instinct of a woman who understood what it meant to grow up feeling like a question without an answer.
Her biological mother had left her at the hospital the day she was born.
She was the same age my daughter would have been. I poured everything I had into being good to her. I wanted to give Susan every bit of love I’d spent 15 years not being able to deliver.
I thought I understood why. I had no idea how completely right I was.
Susan came home a week ago with a DNA test kit from a biology class project. She set it on the kitchen table at dinner with that particular teenage energy.
« It’s not like I feel any less loved, and I know we’re not related. But this is going to be fun, guys! » she said, grinning at me and then at Chris. « And hey, maybe it’ll help me find my real parents someday. The teacher said this one gives results really fast, so we won’t even have to wait a week. »
