My biological parents had been involved in a serious car accident.
Neither survived.
There had been relatives on both sides of my biological family, but complicated disagreements prevented anyone from immediately taking custody.
Weeks turned into months.
Nobody came.
Mom was working at Maplewood as a nurse at the time.
She and my father had been trying unsuccessfully to have children for years.
Treatments.
Disappointments.
Hope followed by more disappointment.
They were beginning to accept that parenthood might never happen for them.
Then Mom met me.
“The first time I met you,” she said, crying now, “you grabbed my finger and wouldn’t let go.”
She smiled through her tears.
“That was it for me.”
Eventually, she and Dad adopted me.
“Legally,” she emphasized. “Completely legally.”
They had hired an independent attorney because Mom already suspected something wasn’t right about Maplewood.
Every form had been reviewed.
Every court requirement had been completed.
