Oh wow. This is the kind of story that makes me miss a breath.
Thank you so much for sharing.
I was never a really maternal type. I relished my freedom and independence, waiting until my 40th birthday to even think about the idea of putting down any permanent roots. My mother always likes to tell me that I absolutely loved being a child and was in no rush to grow up.
When we started out on the long journey to becoming adoptive parents (seems like a lifetime ago) I wasn’t able to fully realise in my head what that would be like. It was more a very pleasing idea… I pictured a sort of Little House on the Prairie relocated into urban city life, with me baking cakes while a beautiful child gurgled appreciatedly in a highchair nearby (wooden naturally).
Yes. Astonishingly I thought I could carry on my day to day life with minimal disruption despite the addition of an infant! – I don’t think I need to…
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