Beau Babies / h.s

Adoption?

   “Aww…” A hushed voice whispered, “She looks so cute when she sleeps…especially with um… that one on her lap…”
   “You don’t even know her name? Idiot!”

   “Shut up, I doubt whether you know the difference between the three of them!”

   “Will you guys stop arguing!”

   “Not until Zayn proves he knows the difference between the three of them!” I realised it was Niall’s voice, and he was obviously arguing with Zayn,

   “I know the difference,” That was Harry’s voice I heard, it was unique and the voice I now constantly craved to hear,

   “Fine then…” Niall declared, “You tell me which one’s which…” Keeping my eyes closed, I listened,

   “The one Bobbie’s holding is Annalise, because she’s the smallest. The other two are more difficult to tell apart, but I know, because Noelle’s my favourite, that she’s the one with more hair and the rounder face so that’s her in the cot and Louis is holding Jaime,”

   There was silence for a brief moment, “Wow,” Niall breathed, “We need to take lessons from you,”

   “Huh,” Harry snorted softly,

   I decided to stay with my eyes closed and try to go back to sleep, god I was tired. I’d been a real mum for five days, with their constant crying and need for feeding, I felt crippled, and so tired. And this was with special help from Angela and the other nurses, I tried desperately not to think about how I’d handle everything at home, on my own.

   For now though. For now I just wanted to sleep…

   Waking up not more than a couple of hours later, I discovered that I was alone. No babies. No boys. Did I dream it all up? I looked down at my stomach, I can’t of, it was flat. What happened?

   It was then that Angela appeared with a smile,

   “Where are they?” I blurted out without thinking,

   “Your babies are back in the nursery and the boys left about an hour ago, but I think one’s still here…”

   “Which one?”

   Angela shrugged, “Oh no two are. One with curly hair and the other Zayn I think his name is…”

   “Oh…”

   “We…” Angela pulled the door open and another woman came in, “Need to talk with you about your care and your children’s care.”

   “Right,” The woman behind Angela introduced herself as Maria, from social services, my heart beat hard, so hard it hurt,

   “We wanted to talk to you about your children and what will be best for them…”

   “Okay,” I gulped, what were they getting at?

   Maria and Angela pulled up a chair, Maria leant forward, “We understand that the father of your children isn’t present,”

   “What do you mean?” I asked lowly,

   Maris licked her lips, “He’s not going to be here to…support you,”

   I nodded once, “That’s right,”

   “And your family aren’t willing to help, are they?”

   This time, I shook my head twice, “No, they’re not,”
   “Do you have a place to stay? A job?”

   “No,” I murmured,

   “Have you considered your girls welfare? You own? Adoption?”