Blurred Lines

Kalani's POV- 10 Years Later:

The sound of soft cries emitting from the baby monitor on my nightstand pulled me from my dreams. I yawned as I slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I glanced over at the clock beside the monitor and checked the time. 6:32. Yeah, that's about the time one of them wakes up anyways.

I stretched quickly before sliding out of bed, careful not to wake Austin who was knocked out beside me. I slid on my house slippers and turned the monitor off before sneaking out of the room and heading to the one across from mine to check on my babies.

The room was dimly lit by the small lamp sitting on the nightstand in between both cribs. It was rather warm but I tried to keep it that way, I didn't want either one of them to get cold in the middle of the night. I walked over to my baby girl's crib first, checking to see if it was her that woke me up.

I peered down into the little pink crib and smiled softly seeing that she was still fast asleep. Her pink butterfly pacifier was still in her mouth from when I put her to sleep a few hours ago. I reached down, fixing her blanket before sighing to myself.

My one year old, little baby girl Cleo DeNae London. She was one of my pride and joys. Unlike her siblings, I had adopted her after my last pregnancy damn near took me to an early grave. After that terrible situation, I made the decision to not have anymore kids. It wasn't safe for me, nor my child. It was a hard decision to make, but I'm happy I did.

Cleo was a chubby little brown skin baby, her eyes were honey brown, and she had the prettiest reddish-brown hair. The first time I laid eyes on her, I knew she was mine. There was something about her that drew me in and I knew from that moment on she was meant to be my little girl.

All of her daddies love her to pieces, Brandon most of all. He's the only one who's child I didn't get to carry. I was going to try again, for him, but he refused. He said he wasn't going to put my other children at risk of losing their mother just for the chance to have a baby.

He didn't tell me the truth as to why he didn't want a baby until we'd adopted Cleo. He said he was afraid that if he and I had a child, they'd come out messed up like he was. I tried to tell him that was absurd but he wouldn't budge. Now, with little Cleo, he's happier than I've ever seen him. She's his pride and joy, along with the others.

I slowly moved over to the other crib on the opposite side of the room. It was blue with white stripes unlike the pink one that had polka-dots. Taylor and Willow's idea, not mine. I peered over into the crib, a small frown falling upon my face seeing my baby boy sitting up, pouting at me.

"Come here, cutie." I whispered and quickly picked him up. He laid his little head on my shoulder as I slowly rocked back and forth trying to soothe him. He was a little whiny but he always was.

This was my two year old, Ezekiel Marcel London. He was the last baby I ever pushed out. He was a chubby little baby, like all my babies were when they were little. He had curly dark brown hair and brown eyes, taking after his daddy, Tristan. His skin was more of a honey beige, sorta like his older brother. He had freckles across his nose and on his cheeks.

He was my miracle child. Neither of us were supposed to make it out of the hospital the day I had him. Thankfully, we did. It was the scariest day of my life and sometimes I get scared that something is going to happen to him. He has ASD, which is Atrial Septal Defect. Simply, a heart defect.

It's basically a congenial hole in his heart that allows oxygen rich and oxygen poor blood to mix. He has trouble breathing and he's always tired, but the Doctors say it should close on its own. However, that doesn't stop me from panicking every time he gets shortness of breath or sleeps for too long.