Melissa didn’t cry.
Instead, she said she wasn’t ready to be a mom.
She explained that her home life was chaotic and that her own mom told her to figure it out alone.
The poor teenage girl just wanted her baby to have a chance. A stable and safe family. A real one.
We signed the adoption paperwork a week later.
So did Melissa.
The agency made it feel like a checklist — legal names, background checks, parenting classes, baby CPR. We ticked every box, and suddenly, we were parents!
We named her Rhea.
She was tiny, with a tuft of dark hair and a cry that could shatter glass. Megan held her like she’d been waiting her whole life for that moment!
My wife refused to sleep anywhere except the nursery’s old armchair, her hand on Rhea’s bassinet as if she could protect her through sheer willpower.
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