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Hello, everybody! My name is Heidi. I am sixteen years old and I’ve got two mothers. How is that even possible? Let me tell you, it’s a long story. So, I was actually born in Boston and my mother had a really difficult delivery. I was alright, but she lost a lot of blood and slipped into a coma. The doctors couldn’t manage to find either my father or any of my other relatives and they couldn’t make any predictions about my mother’s condition either. So they had no option but to give me to a foster family. They agreed that I would live with them until my mother woke up from her coma, if she did.
But years went by, I turned six years old, but it still hadn’t happened. My foster mom and dad didn’t tell me that I wasn’t their real daughter, so I lived a happy life with my beloved mommy and daddy in a small town in Minnesota. I couldn’t have wished for a better family, until…
It was my father’s birthday. and we had a big party at home with all of our friends, a barbeque, and fireworks. We were having so much fun! My father’s phone was ringing off the hook because there were so many people who wanted to wish him a happy birthday. But then, there was another call. My father picked up his phone merrily, expecting another greeting, but then the smile was wiped from his face. He went pale. I was really worried, but he said that everything was fine.
After the party my parents went to their room and shut the door. I tried to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t make out what they were talking about because they were whispering, but then my mom burst into tears. That was far too frightening for me, so I knocked on the door and asked my parents to let me in and to tell me what was going on. And then they told me the truth. They told me about my real mother and her coma and about the phone call. My foster dad was informed that my mother had woken up from the coma and after a little treatment she would be ready to have her daughter back, as agreed.
I was absolutely dejected. I begged my parents to not give me back, I think I’d cried my eyes out, but there was nothing we could do about it. So, in a couple of weeks my parents took me back to Boston.
My real mother met us at the airport. She looked very nice and friendly and she immediately started crying when she saw me. But I didn’t feel anything at all. I was squeezing my foster mom’s hand and didn’t want to let it go. We all went to a cafe and walked around town. My mother tried to make conversation with me, but I never said a word. Soon the moment to say farewell had come. My parents spent one night with us, but when I woke up in the morning, they were not there! There was only a little note on the table. It said: “”Always remember…”” And there was a little picture of us all together. So, I was left alone in that new city with that unknown woman, who I was supposed to call “mom” now. She brought me to my new home, which was really cozy, and there was a separate room for me with a bed, and new clothes and toys.
My mother did her best to get along with me. She cooked, showed me around town, took me to the zoo, she would buy me anything I would ask for, and I started to like her actually, but… I really missed my family.
Once I worked up the courage and asked her if I could visit my home in Minnesota, but she wouldn’t let me. She said that she realized it was hard, but it would be better for me to not communicate with my foster mom and dad for my own good. She said we had to turn over a new leaf together. I got really mad! I wanted to go home so badly that I decided to run away. I packed my little suitcase and headed for the hills. I googled the way to the bus station, it happened to be not that far away from the place we lived. Of course, I got caught and brought back after I’d tried to buy a one-way ticket to my hometown. My mother was in despair. And she made the worst decision ever. She decided to move to another state in the south without even letting my foster family know about it. It turned out that my grandparents lived there, but my mother hadn’t spoken to them for years. They knew nothing about her coma or about me. She also forbade me to call or to email my foster mom and dad and wouldn’t give me their contact information. The only thing I had was that family picture.
“Even though it looked like a happy ending – my grandparents were so happy to see me and to finally make up with their daughter after so many years, I never stopped thinking about my family in Minnesota. It’s been a while. I became a teenager, I went to school, and had a lot of friends there. I loved my grandparents to bits, but not my mother…
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