In A Turn Of Events

Continued: Life was going greatand then!!

We had just gotten used to the idea of raising a baby all over again—but somehow, it was working. She had settled into a sweet little routine, and we had found our rhythm too. Life was peaceful, predictable, and honestly...beautiful.

She was in a good flow—daycare for half a day, happy to come home, nurse, and nap. She was becoming a very independent toddler, starting to love solid foods and exploring the world around her. And while she was all about mama when it came to nursing, she had wrapped her daddy around her tiny little finger. Every day she’d wake up just before he got in from work—like clockwork—ready to run into his arms. She played dollies with me, then raced cars with him. They were too cute together. He was just as smitten with her as I was. We were loving her little life.

But life has a funny way of turning everything upside down just when you think you’ve got it all figured out.

Her mom had been released from prison. She called a few times to check in on her daughter but never came to see her. She said she didn’t want to interrupt her life. And truthfully? We didn’t quite know how we felt about that. She wasn’t getting any help for her addiction, and we weren’t sure what her true intentions were. But I was still glad she called. I held on to the hope that she cared enough to stay in touch.

And then—the twist we never saw coming.

We were finally flowing through life. My supply was solid. Half a freezer full of milk. My baby was eating well, sleeping well, growing beautifully, and so deeply loved. I knew the milk wouldn’t last forever, but I was proud of what I had stored. Proud of the calm we’d built.

Then one night, we got a call. DSS from another state.

They were asking all kinds of questions—about her mom, our relationship with her, how we knew her. My heart started racing. I could tell something was off.

And then they said it.

She had another baby.

She had stayed off drugs through the pregnancy—by some miracle—but after giving birth, she left the baby at the hospital and never came back. The only thing she left was our contact information... handed to the nurse on her way out.

He was alone. No family had come. And if we didn’t take him, he was going into the system.

It didn’t feel real. We had no idea she was even pregnant again. And now here we were, being asked to step up—again.

We agreed to go get him, just to see how things would go. But let’s be real—there was no “just to see.”

The moment we laid eyes on him, we knew.

My husband was immediately obsessed. I barely even got to hold the baby at first—he wouldn’t put him down. “You know we have to keep him,” he said. “We can’t let her brother go into the system.”

And I agreed.

That first night at home, I laid him on my chest with his big sister curled up next to us. She was just as smitten. She looked at him like he was her very own doll—and then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she reached up, lifted my shirt, and guided him toward me.

And just like that, I had two babies latched onto me—both hungry, both searching for comfort, both mine.

I couldn’t give him colostrum. That part of the journey had already passed. But what I did have was a steady flow—and plenty of fatty milk. He latched like he was born for it. He fed so well that first night, like his little body had been waiting for that moment.

And in some ways...so had mine.

We didn’t plan for him. But God did. And from the very first latch, we all knew—he wasn’t going anywhere.