Before I could argue my case any further, the courtroom doors opened and the bailiff called my name. By signing my baby away, to strangers, my life could return to the way it had been.
By: Margaret Mott
I touched my mother’s arm and pleaded in one last desperate attempt to stop the events from unfolding. “Please don’t make me do this”.
“Don’t start.” She sat stiffly in her black dress, her court attire, as though she was at a funeral. She was – mine.
Mom insisted that I wear the new white dress she had bought me as though …