The rain poured hard the night Abigail stood on her mother’s porch. Her hands trembled, a hospital blanket wrapped around her waist, barely two hours postpartum. In her arms, she cradled two tiny babies—boys—swaddled in silence. They had come earlier than expected. There were no balloons, no welcome signs, just the soft sound of their breathing under the glow of the porch light.
The door opened slowly. Caroline, Abigail’s mother, stood there. Her eyes first fell on the infants, then up to her daughter’s face. For a long moment, neither of them said a word.
Abigail’s voice broke the silence. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
Caroline’s face hardened. “You were supposed to be at school. Not getting pregnant. And certainly not with—” She stopped, the sentence unfinished, her eyes drifting to the babies.
“They’re your grandsons,” Abigail said gently. Caroline’s nostrils flared. “They’re not my anything.” Abigail’s breath hitched. “Mom… please. I don’t have money. I don’t have diapers. I don’t even have a place to sleep.” You made this……Read Full Story Here……………………….
