“They’re healthy,” she said. “Maybe two or three days old. Someone cared for them before…” She gestured to the note.
“What happens now?” Mark asked.
“Foster care placement,” she replied. “I’ll arrange it tonight.”
That’s when Savannah broke down.
“No!” she screamed, blocking the stroller. “You can’t take them! I prayed for them every night. God sent them to me!”
Tears streamed down her face. “Please, Mom, don’t let them take my babies.”
Mrs. Rodriguez looked at us sympathetically. “I understand, but they need proper care, medical attention, legal guardianship…”
“We can provide all of that,” I heard myself say. “Let them stay tonight. Just one night while you figure things out.”
Mark squeezed my hand. We both knew these babies had already become ours.
Maybe it was Savannah’s desperation, or maybe Mrs. Rodriguez saw something in us. She agreed to one night.
