My mother was pregnant and on the verge of giving birth when doctors decided to admit her to the hospital. She had a pregnancy that was well along. Later, they added a young lady to the space. She was an orphan who appeared older than her years.
She was from a rural area and didn’t have a husband. Because she was a country girl, the nurses disliked her and treated her severely despite her grave condition. She was eight months along in her pregnancy and was at a very high risk of miscarriage.
She had long, thick hair that was braided in a plait, and she had beautiful blue eyes. She exuded kindness and liveliness. She made friends with my mother, and my mom liked her for her upbeat personality. My mother would share the many sweets that my dad would bring her, like mandarins, apples, and chocolate chocolates. The women traded addresses so they could visit each other as they awaited the arrival of their baby.
Her condition suddenly deteriorated one night. Numerous physicians and nurses were present when my mum awoke. They wheeled the pregnant woman away in a wheelchair because she was so pale. She did not live long enough to see her son. After giving birth to twins, my mother struggled for a while to convince my father that she wanted to adopt the woman’s child.
She feared that if my dad didn’t like the idea, the child would follow her and her mother into an orphanage. But adopting the child was the proper choice for my dad. The boy was listed by the physicians as my mother’s third child.
My mother’s nightmares featured his birth mother frequently, giving her wise counsel. My parents recently made the decision to inform my brother of his biological parents’ separation. After that, he continued to treat us the same way and grew even more kind and committed to our mother.
