“I’m afraid we’ll never have a baby,” she said sadly.
Miscarriages, surrogates changing their minds and a very long adoption list, had taken their toll.
“Perhaps Santa will bless us with a miracle.” He held her tight as they listed to carollers in the distance.
The doorbell rang and they opened it to three women standing beneath the bright starlit sky.
One held a bag of nappies.
The second, tins of milk powder.
The third a tiny baby. “His parents rejected him,” she said. “He has Down’s Syndrome.”
“He’s perfect!” They said in unison. “Our Christmas Angel.”
Miscarriages, surrogates changing their minds and a very long adoption list, had taken their toll.
“Perhaps Santa will bless us with a miracle.” He held her tight as they listed to carollers in the distance.
The doorbell rang and they opened it to three women standing beneath the bright starlit sky.
One held a bag of nappies.
The second, tins of milk powder.
The third a tiny baby. “His parents rejected him,” she said. “He has Down’s Syndrome.”
“He’s perfect!” They said in unison. “Our Christmas Angel.”
