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I’d made a promise when I prayed for this baby, and now I needed to keep it.
One year later, on Stephanie’s first birthday, while guests sang and balloons brushed the ceiling, John and I stepped into the kitchen.
I’d placed adoption papers in a folder I covered with gift wrapping. John smiled and arched an eyebrow at me when I presented it to him, along with a pen I’d decorated with a strip of ribbon.
“I just wanted to make it look pretty. To welcome the newest member of our family.”
We signed the adoption papers.
We brought Ruth home two weeks later.
She had been abandoned on Christmas Eve, left near the city’s main Christmas tree with no note.
She was tiny, silent — completely different from Stephanie.
I thought that difference would mean the girls would complement each other, but I didn’t account for how stark the differences between them would become as they grew older.
Ruth studied the world like she was trying to figure out the rules before anyone could catch her breaking them.
I noticed immediately that Ruth didn’t cry unless she was alone.
“She’s an old soul,” my husband joked, bouncing her gently in his arms.
I held her closer.
I would never have guessed that precious baby would grow up to break my heart.
The girls grew up knowing the truth about Ruth’s adoption. We stated it simply:
“Ruth grew in my heart, but Stephanie grew in my belly.”
They accepted this the way children accept that the sky is blue and water is wet. It just was.
I treated them the same, and I loved them with the same intensity, but as they grew older, I started noticing friction between my girls.
They were so different… like oil and water.
Stephanie commanded attention without even trying. She walked into rooms like she owned them and fearlessly asked questions that made adults uncomfortable.
Stephanie did everything from math homework to dance classes like they were handing out medals.
She was driven and determined to be the best at everything.
Ruth was careful.
She studied moods the way other kids studied spelling words. She learned early how to disappear when she felt like too much, and how to make herself small and quiet.
At some point, treating them both equally started to feel like it wasn’t really equal.
The rivalry was subtle at first. Small things you could almost miss if you weren’t paying attention.
Stephanie interrupted. Ruth waited.
Stephanie asked. Ruth hoped.
Stephanie assumed. Ruth wondered.