I longed to be a mother, enduring years of miscarriages that drained my hope and strained my marriage. In my darkest moment, I prayed for a child and promised to give a home to one who had none. Soon after, I gave birth to Stephanie, and a year later we adopted Ruth, keeping our promise. I loved both girls deeply, raising them with honesty about their origins, but as they grew, their differences fueled rivalry—Stephanie confident and commanding, Ruth quiet and cautious.
At 17, Ruth discovered the truth behind my prayer and believed she was adopted only as part of a bargain. Hurt and angry, she ran away after prom. When she returned days later, she told me she didn’t want to be my promise—only my daughter. Holding her, I assured her she always had been, and in that moment, our family began to heal.
