Something inside me collapsed.
All the fear, shame, anger, and confusion poured out at once.
“I left them.”
The nurse didn’t answer.
“I heard them crying, and I still left.”
I reached through the opening in the crib.
One of my daughters wrapped her fingers around mine.
Her entire hand barely covered the tip of my finger.
But she held on.
I started sobbing.
“I’m sorry.”
Brian stood behind me.
I didn’t turn around.
“I’m so sorry.”
A social worker arrived less than ten minutes later.
I immediately told her I wanted to withdraw everything I had signed.
Her expression was serious.
“You need to understand that this may not be as simple as tearing up the paperwork.”
“I understand.”
“There will be evaluations.”
“Fine.”
“Interviews.”
“Fine.”
“You made a very serious statement when you said you couldn’t care for them.”
“I was terrified.”
She studied me.
