Carrie and Dana were my late husband’s secret twin girls. I adopted them thirteen years ago, and they have changed my life forever. Their mother had died in a terrible car accident, and I decided on the spot to take them in because I was still upset about finding out my husband had been cheating on me.
The first few years were a careful dance of sadness and change. The girls were careful, as if they thought I might change my mind. At night, I heard them quietly talking about plans for “when she sends us away.” Every whisper was like a knife to my heart, but I kept going because I hoped one day they would accept their past.
As the girls got older, the knives came out, and our relationship turned into a trap. They would lash out, making sure that every word they said was meant to hurt. “At least our real mum wanted us from the start!” And “Maybe she’d still be alive if it wasn’t for you!” Even though each jab hurt, I kept going because I hoped one day they’d get it.
That day came not long after they turned sixteen. They changed the locks and left a note that said, “We’ve grown up.” when I got home from work. We need our own area. “Go live with your mum.” Being able to see my bag by the door made me realise that I was no longer welcome in my own home.
After that, the days were a blur of pain and worry. I went to work and did what I had to do, but my heart was heavy with sadness. I began to question whether or not I had been naive to believe that I could ever be a mother to these girls and whether they truly loved me.
On the sixth day, though, I finally got the call I had been waiting for. I loved Carrie’s voice, even though it was soft and shaky. “Mom?” Are you free to go home? Please?”
I ran back quickly, my heart beating fast with excitement. There was a treat waiting for me when I rushed through the front door. The floors were shining and the walls were brand new. The house had been completely changed. Coming out of the kitchen, the girls smiled like they did when they were kids.
I looked at the picture of the three of us on the day we were adopted and felt both happy and sad. The soft purple colour of the walls of their new home office showed how much love and care they had put into making it their own.
She said, “You gave us a family, Mom,” with a voice that was almost a whisper. You didn’t have to remember all the things that hurt even though we did. You picked us even though you were the best mum ever.
I would always love them because they were my children.
