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‘Sorry Mom, I Couldn’t Leave Them,’ My 16-Year-Old Son Said When He Brought Newborn Twins Home

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“They’re my brother and sister, and they have nobody. I told Sylvia I’d bring them home just for a little while, just to show you, and maybe we could help. I couldn’t just leave them there.”

I sank down onto the edge of his bed.

“How did they even let you take them? You’re 16 years old.”

“Sylvia signed a temporary release form. She knows who I am.

I showed them my ID, proving I was related. Mrs. Chen vouched for me.

They said it was irregular, but given the circumstances, Sylvia just kept crying and saying she didn’t know what else to do.”

I looked at the babies in his arms. They were so small and fragile.

“You can’t do this. This isn’t your responsibility,” I whispered, tears burning in my eyes.

“Then whose is it?” Josh shot back. “Dad’s? He already proved he doesn’t care.

What if Sylvia doesn’t make it, Mom? What happens to these babies then?”

“We take them back to the hospital right now. This is too much.”

“Mom, please…”

“No.” My voice was firmer now.

“Get your shoes on. We’re going back.”

The drive to Mercy General was suffocating. Josh sat in the back seat with the twins, one on each side of him in the baskets we’d hastily grabbed from the garage.

When we arrived, Mrs.

Chen met us at the entrance. Her face was tight with concern.

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