Yet no matter how much Eva gave, there was always an empty place inside me shaped exactly like my biological mother.
So when I discovered I was pregnant—with twins—that emptiness flared to life again. Suddenly, my biological mom was calling. Texting. Sending baby name suggestions. She spoke about being a “doting grandmother,” about how this was her second chance. I let myself believe it. I wanted to believe it.
Then came the ultimatum.
She told me she wouldn’t step foot in the delivery room if Eva was there. She said it calmly, as though it were the most reasonable thing in the world. “I just can’t do that,” she explained. “It would be too uncomfortable.”
I didn’t sleep for days after that conversation.
For illustrative purposes only
In the end, desperation won. That fragile, aching hope that maybe—finally—I could have the mother-daughter bond I’d longed for all my life. I called Eva and told her she couldn’t come to the hospital.
