I felt as though I was in a dense fog during the birthing process. It everything seemed like a sticky nightmare. However, something genuinely startling surfaced twenty years later.
The flashes of light, the shouting, the intense pain, the chilly hands of the medical staff—it was all like a bad dream. Then a baby’s cries. and shadows. In my hospital room, I awoke. Lucas, my newborn baby, was at my side. I believed it to be my only child.
My hubby left me as soon as he found out I was expecting. I was the only one raising Lucas, and I did everything in my power to give him everything, even if it wasn’t much. He grew up to be a smart and likeable young man. And after twenty years, I was positive I knew everything there was to know about my life.
That is, until one day we went into a bookshop together.
Lucas moved to the shelf containing the textbooks, but I remained near the classics. Then, suddenly, I saw him—or someone who looked like him. He stood on the opposite side of the room, reading a book. The same look, the same attitude. Meanwhile, Lucas was on the other side of the shop. My eyes were unreal.
My heart started pounding. I took a step closer. The boy looked at me, and something sparked in his eyes. His name was Marco. The birthday is April 18. Lucas is the same.
When I got home, I dared to open the old documents for the first time in twenty years. Among the papers, I saw a letter that said, “Second newborn — deceased”.
I was not permitted to see him. They told me he didn’t make it. I wasn’t completely conscious, so I couldn’t verify anything. I took their words at their value.
With trembling hands, I dialed the hospital archive. I turned everything upside down until I realized that something had gone awry. The name tags were changed. One baby did die, however it wasn’t mine.
I contacted the individuals who had mentioned Marco. They were surprised. The boy they had brought home had been loved. Now, he was their biological son.
We decided to meet. Lucas, me, Marco, and his adoptive parents. At first, it felt weird.
We were afraid that we would talk too much and diminish each other’s life experiences. But as we spoke and wept, something within of us began to shift.
We now see each other often. Every now and then we go out to eat dinner together. We are a strange, unconventional family, but we are real. I’m what Marco calls his “second mom.”
When I look at him, I can tell that he was always mine. He just took a little longer to respond to me.
Sometimes life takes a different path. But if you have room in your heart, the road will always lead home.
