A young woman laid on a delivery table, her feet still in the stirrups. Her breath came in small pants and sweat stuck her beautiful caramel colored hair to her face and neck. Olive green eyes watched as hospital staff tended to her two newborn girls; cleaning, weighing, measuring, and checking their overall health. As proud as she was to have finally and safely given birth to her precious babies, and as much as she felt joy at their existence, she was equally afraid.

Her fear didn't come from the uncertainty of parenthood, or her competency and capability to take care of two newborn babies. The woman's fear came from what her babies would endure growing up. Would she be able to keep them both safe?

The first twenty four hours were a blur of learning everything she would need to know— breastfeeding, bottle making, diaper changing. How to burp, bathe, and swaddle these tiny humans she had created. Every waking moment she spent either holding or caring for her babies, soaking up as much time with them as possible in the safety of the hospital walls.

Eventually her husband would find her. It was hard not to leave a trace when at a hospital, having given birth. She dreaded him finding her, knowing it would mean spending every day protecting her children from him. The one thing that both gave her hope and broke her heart was the fact that he only knew she was pregnant, he did not know she was going to have twins. If she put one baby up for adoption, that baby would be safe. She'd go to a loving home far away from their world, and protecting one baby instead of two would be significantly easier.

Tears ran over her cheeks as she called a nurse, telling the surprised woman she wanted to place one of her beautiful new children up for adoption. A social worker was brought in, papers were signed, and the young mother watched as one of her precious babies was taken away. Grief gripped her heart like a vice, but she knew she had to be strong, for moving forward she would need that strength. She couldn't fall apart, not now. Not when her remaining child would need her in more ways than the blissfully ignorant infant could ever imagine.