I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“Then what is inside my belly?”
The doctor explained that they had discovered a large mass that was responsible for the changes in my abdomen and the sensations that felt like movement.
It required treatment, and the specialists had already developed a medical plan.
I burst into tears.
But the story didn’t end there.
Daniel showed the doctor Robert’s letter.
And the doctor noticed an address written on the back.
It was the address of an old medical archive.
A few days later, Daniel went there.
He returned that evening carrying an envelope.
“Mom, you need to read this.”
Inside was a family photograph from 1968.
Robert, me, and our two little children.
But on the back of the photograph, Robert had written something.
“Our third child is still alive. Margaret doesn’t know.”
My entire world collapsed.
Because in 1968, I had been told that my newborn daughter had not survived.
