Doctors admitted my mother to the hospital when she was pregnant, nearly ready to give birth. She was at an advanced stage of pregnancy. Later, they placed a young woman in the same room. She appeared older than her years and grew up as an orphan.
She didn’t have a husband and came from a rural background. She was in critical condition, and the nurses treated her harshly, disliking her because she was a country girl. She was in her eighth month of pregnancy and at high risk of a miscarriage.
She was a very attractive woman with long, thick hair braided in a plait and large blue eyes. She was full of life and kindness. She struck up a friendship with my mother, having a sunny disposition, which endeared her to my mom. My dad would bring my mother various treats like mandarins, apples, and chocolate candies, and my mother would share them with her. While awaiting the birth of their children, the women exchanged addresses so they could visit each other.
One night, her condition worsened unexpectedly. When my mother woke up, she saw many doctors and nurses in the room. The pregnant woman looked very pale, and they took her away in a wheelchair. She didn’t survive to see her baby boy. My mother gave birth to twins, and for a long time, she couldn’t bring herself to tell my dad that she wanted to adopt the woman’s child.
She was afraid that my dad wouldn’t approve of the idea, and the child would end up in an orphanage, just like her and her mother. But my dad made the right decision to adopt the child. The doctors registered the boy as my mom’s third child.
His birth mother often appeared in my mom’s dreams and provided valuable advice. Recently, my parents decided to tell my brother that they were not his biological parents. Afterward, his attitude towards us didn’t change; he became even more caring and devoted to our mom.