“Morgan went upstairs to check on him. The child lay face down, his cheek mashed against the mattress, his thumb in his mouth. Did his mother know he was a thumb sucker? Would she let him do it or slap his hand away? She leaned over the crib rail and picked the boy up. He stirred awake, his face warm against her neck. She carried him into her room and laid him gently down on the bed. He put his thumb back in his mouth and began sucking again as she curled up next to him. Stroking his little head..., she began to cry. Please, Lord. Don’t take this baby away from me. Even if Sheila did come to live with them, Morgan’s days of mothering the baby would end. Did she even have a choice? What if he’s the only baby I ever have? She touched her stomach and wondered how it would be to feel the swell of a baby, the flutter of his movement, the kick from a little foot. Even the morning sickness would be welcome. She cried into the pillow and prayed that the results of her hormone test would be good news, and not further deplete her hope.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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