But no one did.
After six months, I filed for adoption.
On Luna’s first birthday, it became official.
We held a small celebration in my apartment — it wasn’t anything big or fancy. Just a few friends from work and my neighbors.
There was a pink birthday cake and gold balloons, one of which got stuck spinning in the ceiling fan.
Luna squealed with delight as I held her up to bat at it, frosting smeared across her cheeks and forehead. She was laughing so hard she could barely breathe, her tiny hands reaching for the air.
For the first time in years, I felt whole. I felt settled — like I had built something that would last.
Then, right in the middle of her giggle, her body slumped in my arms.
“Luna?” I exclaimed, panicked.
“Hey — hey, baby, look at me!”
But she didn’t make a sound. There was no cry, no whimper… just the terrifying weight of stillness in my hands.
I called 911 with shaking fingers, barely able to tell them my address.
Continue reading…
