We had a conversation with Mikayla about her parents, and she understood she had two sets of parents. Whenever she asked questions, we answered to the best of our ability.
Monica’s and Trevor’s parents came around more now that she was older. I was glad that she still had a connection with herbiological parents. They were able to tell her more things about her parents than we could. We shared pictures of them and told her stories about them that she would understand.
Since we were her guardians, we adopted her, and she shared our last name, but it was hyphenated with her parents’ last name. I never wanted to take that away from her. She’d been adjusting well, but I was sure there would be times when she would wonder more about her parents. We would be there for her as much as we possibly could.
Some days I couldn’t get over being called mommy by three little people. Arsel and I weren’t sure if we would have more kids, but I wasn’t opposed to it. We didn’t have too much time left, but one more wouldn’t hurt. Our family was perfect the way it was, though.
I had written multiple bestsellers over the years, and I slowed down on releasing as much as I did in the past. Mikayla and I were in the process of writing a children’s book about being adopted. I loved that she took a liking to writing like me. She would write short stories in her notebook and share them with her friends in school. She even won a contest they had at the school she attended.
Amiyah liked to play doctor with her doll babies, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she turned out to be a doctor like her father, or even a nurse. Baby boy was too young to have a clue as to what he would do. He just liked being under his daddy. Arsel and I did our best to provide a happy and loving environment, and I’d like to think that we had done a good job so far.
“Hey, baby,” Arsel said as he entered our bedroom.
“Hey. Is everything okay?”
He walked further inside and climbed into the bed next to me. The house was quiet for a change, so I took advantage of it and did a little writing. I didn’t have a deadline, so it wasn’t a rush; I just wrote because the urge hit me.
“Yeah. It was a patient with severe burns, but she’ll survive. It’s a shame because they said her boyfriend had done it, but they weren’t sure. She was unconscious, so nobody has been able to talk to her.”
I rubbed his head when he put his head on my chest. Arsel had been on call, so he had to go in to work for a few hours.
“That’s sad. Hopefully, it wasn’t him. Nobody should do anything like that.”
Arsel slipped his hand under my back and snuggled even closer. His eyes were closed, and I had a feeling he would fall asleep.
“You’re right. What have you been up to since I left?”
“I played with the kids a little. We had our learning hour, and I made them help me clean. Once the boy went down, I came in here and did some writing.”
Arsel lifted his head and gave me a quick kiss.
“You really be doing this mom thing. Thank you for doing everything you do. Some days, I don’t know how you do it, but you do it.”
“I’m not by myself in this. You are a big help.”
Things weren’t perfect, and we had plenty of disagreements over the years, but we made things work. There was no leaving this go round, and Arsel made sure of that. There were moments when I had to apologize first, though. We used our support system when we needed them. Arsel and I had date nights and made sure each other had self-care days.
Silence fell over the room until there was a knock on the door. Arsel had fallen asleep, but as soon as all three kids came in, he was up again.
“Dada,” Axel said as he wobbled toward the bed.
When he reached it, Arsel picked him up and tossed him into the air.
Mikayla sat on the edge of the bed. “Hey, Daddy.”
She and Arsel had a special relationship since she was technically our first child and the reason why we worked so hard for our marriage.
“Hey, baby girl.”
Arsel had been calling her baby girl since she was little and hadn’t stopped.
“Mommy, I’m hungry.” Amiyah climbed onto the bed and sat on her knees.
“So you don’t see me sitting here,” Arsel teased.
“Sorry, Daddy, but my tummy hurts because I’m so hungry.” Amiyah pouted as she rubbed her stomach.
I shook my head at her dramatic self. One would think the child hadn’t eaten in days with the way she acted anytime she was hungry.
