I’m Margaret, 75, and my husband Thomas and I never had children. After years of trying, we accepted it. Then a neighbor mentioned a five-year-old girl no one wanted because of a birthmark.
Her name was Lily. We met her, adopted her, and she grew into a kind, determined woman who became a doctor. She was our world.
Then, out of the blue, a letter arrived. It was from her biological mother, Emily. She explained she was only seventeen, her parents wouldn’t let her keep Lily, and now, sick with cancer, she wanted Lily to know she was wanted.
We told Lily. She cried once, then said, “You’re my parents. That doesn’t change.”
Lily knows now she was wanted twice—by a scared young mother and by us, the people who never let her feel unwanted.