After delivering a baby for a lonely mother, the doctor looked at the newborn’s face and dropped his instruments in shock. He stared into the baby’s distinct amber eyes and whispered, “where is the woman who brought you here?” The mother pointed to her bag, revealing an old photograph that solved a twenty-year-old mystery…

apartment, counting pennies for formula. No one could magically undo the sheer terror of staring at that empty chair beside my hospital bed when the contractions ripped through me.

But true healing had never been about fabricating a delusion that the wound didn’t exist. Healing meant that the wound no longer possessed the power to dictate the ending continue reading …