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This woman's emotional postpartum depression story is actually incredibly common.

Postpartum depression is valid. It is real. And it can feel devastating.

This story was originally published on The Mighty.

I gripped the wheel as I inched across the ice-caked road, my knuckles nearly the color of the falling snow. My thoughts bounced recklessly through my sleep-deprived brain.

What if I slide off the side of this bridge? How will I save them all? How can I get them all out? Who left me in charge of three children? How do I even have three kids? I don’t know how to do this. What if I am ruining them all?


Behind me, my 6-year-old son was chattering away about his day at kindergarten as his 5-week-old sister screamed like a baby velociraptor on one side of him and her twin brother slept serenely on the other. I barely heard him talking. The heat hissed through the vents, a steady wave of false comfort.

The boy could probably swim, but the water would be so cold it would be hard to move. Would we be trapped beneath the ice of the frozen Mississippi River that had seemingly slowed to a halt below us? And my babies. My teeny, tiny babies. They aren’t even close to 10 pounds yet, I recalled, as though that arbitrary weight would somehow keep them safer in the icy blackness of the churning river below. How quickly could I undo not just one car seat, but two, in the subzero swirl of stunning darkness?

I was terrified — barely breathing, tears rolling down my cheeks.

That late January afternoon, I wondered how I could possibly be responsible for three children.

I thought there was no way I could save them. I wondered if this was all some sort of mistake. And I deliberated the best possible ways to shield them from my anxiety-riddled mind.

Photo via iStock.

Was I ever concerned about hurting my children? Never.

But I was unsure of how I could attend to their needs and be the mother they all deserved. Every word and movement and thought felt like an affront. I was failing at the most important thing in my world — being a mom.

I won’t say I was overly surprised I had postpartum depression.

There were prior decades of burying pain and trying to ignore all of the demons who haunted my sleep. But now here I was, surrounded by love in its purest and most reverent form — two babies and a joyful, compassionate 6-year-old.

I thought my unending despondency was proof I did not deserve my children. I tried desperately to hold it together. To wish away the feelings of failure and emptiness and despair. I stared at the twins and breathed in their sweet sleepy skin and wished I could stop feeling so horribly sad in the midst of my little miracles. Not even my closest friends knew.

I smiled and carefully maintained a façade of stability as best I could until I was alone and able to collapse into myself. Acknowledging the hopelessness and melancholy that formed an edge around my every waking hour.

My constant companions were irritability, anxiety, an unending feeling of being overwhelmed, and sadness. Pure, shoulder-sobbing sadness. I cried a lot. Sometimes for hours on end — seemingly without reason.

I had struggled for almost four years to get pregnant.

Seemingly spreading my legs for every fertility doctor in a 30-mile radius. Broken and nonfunctional parts of my reproductive system were surgically removed. Medications were ingested. I willingly offered my then-taut abdomen as a pin-cushion to the hoards of needles that arrived at my home. A medical waste container assumed a position on top of my fridge.

For years the struggle was fruitless. And eventually, it became clear the IVF was our only option. And so it began in earnest. I ran, I ate healthy, I meditated, I wrote. And then it happened.

I was pregnant. Not just one, but two sesame-seed-sized hearts were beating inside of me. I was elated and terrified. For 37 weeks, I did every possible thing I could to protect the lives I was now nurturing and incubating. And then they were born. My babies were here. Tiny hands and soft skin and inviting eyes. My heart grew immeasurably, as did my sadness.

Photo via iStock.

It was a desolation that did not fit the attendant circumstances.

Yes, I was exhausted. Yes, I was anxious. Yes, I had the “baby blues” from the sudden surge of hormones (that were not administered by injection).

But this was more than that. This was postpartum depression.

I was ashamed. Embarrassed. Worried about what others would think or say.

Certain I was a horrible mother and my children would be better off without me. Unable to be away from my babies for any amount of time. Terrified of what would happen if I was not always vigilant.

I sat on my couch, in my car, in the shower, virtually anywhere — willing myself to feel better. I thought I could fix it. That I could try harder, smile more, eat healthier, get a little sleep.

I was certain I had to take care of this alone and that no one could know how horribly I was failing my children by being depressed. I thought since I was the one who was broken in the midst of so much perfection, I could not tell anyone.

I felt utterly and completely alone.

Photo via iStock.

And then one day, several months after the twins were born, my partner looked me straight in my bloodshot, swollen eyes and said: “You need to talk to someone about this.”

After much hesitation, I picked up the phone and carefully dialed the number. I hung up three times before I heard the entirety of the greeting on the other end. My voice was barely audible. The person on the other end was clearly not in the mood to accommodate or calm my fears. Her concern was only with scheduling an initial appointment, and she fought to understand what I was asking for with my cracking, shaky words. Alas, an appointment was confirmed and the wheels were set in motion.

Close to two weeks later, I met with a psychiatrist. She empathetically engaged me and offered the kindness and understanding I needed.

She heard me. She saw me. And she didn’t look away.

The psychiatrist mentioned medications that might help. After careful consideration and having my fears about antidepressants and breastfeeding assuaged, I elected to take a low-dose prescription.

It was an internal battle, and some days I hated myself for needing it. I thought I was weak. More proof I was incapable of being a good mother if I was not medicated. After a while, though, I came to see that nothing could be further from the truth. I had sought help. I was able to take a step back and understand that even if I was depressed and struggling, my children needed me to be at my best, and I too deserved to feel better. I was also referred to an incredible therapist who would become a proverbial hand to hold through the darkness.

Several weeks later, I carried my then-4-month-old babies into the waiting room of a clinic at a large public hospital.

Each child was carefully cradled in a bulky and protective infant car seat. I was nervous. Hesitant. Exhausted. Embarrassed. And desperate.

I checked and double checked to make sure I had not forgotten one of my babies — I never did, but I worried regardless. I made sure they were breathing and not overheating.

A bag full of accouterments that rarely needed to be used was slung over my shoulder. Diapers and wipes and hand sanitizer. Toys and clothes and burp cloths. A blanket or two. I tried to convince myself that if I brought the right things with me, I would be OK, they would be OK. We would all be OK. I was beyond tired.

My bones ached with exhaustion beyond what could be anticipated from caring for two infants simultaneously. My hands trembled from the constant barrage of being so overwhelmed. I gazed lovingly at my two tiny babies and hoped beyond hope I could do better for them.

What if the therapist thinks I am unfit? What if one of my babies starts crying and I can’t get them to stop it? What if I start crying and cannot stop either?

None of these things happened.

I hesitantly sat down in her office and desperately tried to hold it together. Until she told me I didn’t have to be strong all the time.

Until she explained that my frightening new normal was not abnormal. Until she said she understood — and I believed her. It was only then that I let loose a torrent of tears I was not certain would ever end.

I rambled on and on as she looked at me intently with an empathy that spoke volumes. She held my gaze and assured me what I was thinking and feeling and saying all made perfect sense. She seemed to genuinely understand the desolation I felt, and she never assigned any judgment to it.

For months we met biweekly and sometimes weekly. She provided a safe space where I could open up about my feelings of inadequacy and my concerns for the future. Some days, I just sat down heavily in the chair, my babies playing at my feet, and said: “This is really f*cking hard and I don’t feel like I am doing anything right.”

She had an endless amount of patience for my self-deprecation and was there to remind me it was entirely OK to feel simultaneously ecstatic and distraught. More than anything else, she listened and just let me speak — or cry — as needed.

Photo via iStock.

And after some time, the intense sadness did begin to dissipate.

I started to find my footing and not feel entirely leveled on a daily basis. It was hard-fought but well worth the effort.

Two years ago, a dear friend was pregnant with her first child, and she lamented her concerns about postpartum depression. When I mentioned I had experienced it and there were options available if it did happen, she was nearly flabbergasted.

“You did?! I had no idea.”

And that was entirely the point.

I hid my sadness and my despair and my tortured thinking from as many as I could.

I was ashamed. I was sad at such a seemingly happy time in my life. I wanted to let others know I needed help, but I also feared how weak and ungrateful I would seem if I articulated a need for assistance.

According to the American Psychological Association, up to 1 in 7 women experience postpartum depression in the weeks and months after giving birth, but not everyone seeks treatment. Many go through it alone in silence, wondering what is wrong with them.

Depression tells you no one else will understand. It coerces you into believing you are alone and you should be alone. It silences you when all you want to do is ask for understanding and kindness. Postpartum depression offers the same delusions, with the added variable of a new baby (or babies) and all of the attendant duties, responsibilities, and expectations placed on mothers by themselves, their families, and society.

It is an equal opportunity offender, catching new mothers off guard in the midst of what they have been repeatedly told is “the happiest time in their lives.”

Was my childbirth experience the perfect storm for postpartum depression? Possibly.

After years of fertility treatments, the physical and emotional stress of a multiple pregnancy, an extremely difficult delivery with significant blood loss during an unanticipated cesarean section, issues with milk supply, and no family within nearly a thousand-mile radius, I was already running on close to empty.

Did all these factors contribute to the tidal wave of postpartum depression that left me struggling to breathe? Probably.

Was any one of them the tipping point? Perhaps.

Does it really matter? No. There doesn’t have to be a reason. Sometimes it just is. And that is OK.

Having postpartum depression does not make someone a bad mother. It does not make them broken or a failure. There should be no shame in talking about it, no harm in letting other women know it can and does happen.

Years later, I am still not sure if I am doing anything right. But now I also know that is OK.

Do I worry that my children were irreparably influenced by my postpartum depression? Of course. Were they? I will never know.

What I do hope is that they were more influenced by my decision to acknowledge that something was not right and to seek the help I needed to be a better mother to all of them.

Postpartum depression is valid. It is real. And it can feel devastating. Those who are struggling with it need and deserve to be recognized.

We can start the conversation. We can hold the hard truths. And we can offer support. Providing small reminders to let one another know there is no place for shame, and we don’t have to be alone.

via James Breakwell/X

All parents have had similar convos with thier kiddos.

Raising kids is tough, but there's a lot of laughs along the way. Especially when actual conversations start, as kids begin trying to make sense out of the world around them, ask questions, and test mommy and daddy's resolve.

Back in 2018, comedy writer and children's book author James Breakwell, with four daughters who were all under the age of eight at the time, shared their hilarious conversations on X. From these tweets, it looks like comedy runs in the family. Here's a sampling of some Breakwell's funniest kid-inspired tweets.

 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 

While Breakwell's 7-year-old wasn't as heavily featured, when she was quoted, the sarcasm was palpable. Which makes sense, considering that kiddos begin understanding this mechanism around that age.

 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 

Kids really do say the darnedest things, and we love them for it. It one of the many, many ways then bring so much joy to the world. It almost makes up for the headaches and sleepless nights, doesn't it.

This article originally appeared seven years ago.

Community

30 cheap and delicious meals frugal people swear they never get sick of

"I could eat one every day of my life if I allowed it to happen."

Image via Canva

Frugal people share cheap meals they love.

Groceries are a major expense these days. And grocery prices are continuing to go up in 2025, according to the USDA. Still, making meals at home versus going out to eat is cheaper, and a big way to save money. But getting creative with low-cost ingredients can be a hang-up.

In an online community of frugal people, member samdaz712 posed the question to fellow savers: "What’s the cheapest meal you actually enjoy eating regularly?"

They continued, "We all have that one budget meal that somehow never gets old. For me, it’s rice, eggs, and frozen mixed veggies with soy sauce and chili flakes. Costs next to nothing, takes 10 minutes, and I actually look forward to it."

The post wrapped up with a call-out for others' favorite and frugal meals. "Curious what everyone else’s go-to cheap meals are not the I’ll suffer through this to save money kind, but the ones you genuinely like and would still eat even if you weren’t budgeting. Always looking for new ideas that don’t break the bank," they added.

Frugal people happily shared their cheap (and yummy) go-to meals. Here are 30 cheap meals that they never get sick of.

"PB&J sandwiches. I could eat one every day of my life if I allowed it to happen. If I'm feeling fancy, I'll make a PB, banana, and honey sandwich. Then I'll pan toast with a generous amount of butter on each side until the bread is golden brown and the PB starts to melt. It's so decadent yet so cheap." - Kom4K

"Fried egg sandwich." - Major9000

"Every week-ish we make pinto beans, smash em up into a refried situation, melt some cheese, spread them on toasted torta bread with avocado. Then use leftovers in your eggs the next day or make burritos for lunch. You can never go wrong with a pot of beans." - BoardNo1459

"A pot of pinto beans with a link of kielbasa sausage and corn bread...Absolute baller." - Bigram03

"'Hobo-potatoes,' diced potatoes, onions, salt and pepper, mixed up in a bag of foil with oil and left to cook in the coals of a camp fire. Goes great with any protein and has more potassium per serving than bananas." - BlaqueNight

"Pasta and butter. Sometimes with grated parmesan." - RuthlessLidia

"Quesadilla." - babe_ruthless3

"Toast." - FrauAmarylis

"Pan fried tofu slabs braised in a pan with chopped kimchi, green onion, kimchi liquid or rice vinegar, soy sauce, sesame oil, bit of water to make it saucy, a tsp of sugar seems to help it meld together. Takes 10-12 min. Served over short grain rice. Optional toppings, toasted sesame seeds, chopped cilantro, sliced green onion. Edit: this was from The NY Times food, from Sue Li for exact proportions." - LavaPoppyJax

"Costco’s $1.50 hot dog and drink." - StarWolf478

"Rice and eggs for me too. It can be enjoyed in so many ways! My favorite is a crispy egg that’s still yolky on sushi rice with seaweed, salt and sesame oil." - theyrejusttoys

"For me it's an egg foo young - type dish! Stir raw eggs into leftover cooked vegetables (and optional protein, like leftover chicken or whatever you have). Ladle the mixture into a hot pan with a little oil, and fry up into patties. Serve over rice, and top with a drizzle of some kind of Asian sauce and a little hot pepper. You can look up a recipe for Egg Foo Young sauce, but that's not necessary; it tastes great with almost any kind of Asian sauce, or simply soy sauce. The cooked patties last for days in the refrigerator and can be reheated. Bonus: This is a fantastic way to use up any small bits of leftover veggies or meat. And if I have wilted vegetables that are in danger of spoiling, I just chop them up and quickly sauté them together, and freeze them in small containers. Now I have lots of veggies ready to go to make delicious egg foo young." - TIL_eulenspiegel

"For me, it’s instant noodles with a soft-boiled egg, some greens, and a splash of sesame oil. Dirt cheap but feels like comfort food every time!" - Wajid-H-Wajid

"Baked potatoes. So cheap, so good." - killyergawds

"Over-night oats. Eat it every morning before work." - Non_Binary_Goddess

"Nachos for the win." - HappyBear4Ever

"Rice and lentils cooked together." - RichCoast7186

"Potatoes, baked beans, fried eggs. Potatoes, corned beef, fried eggs. Rice (Mexican, Spanish, or Asian), beans, fried eggs. Cottage cheese, bran, frozen blueberries, milk. Home made salsa or pico de gallo on anything. Ground beef, rice, tomato and whatever else I have around. Rotisserie chicken, use the carcass to make soup with rice. Use the chicken that you can get off with tortillas and verde/enchilada sauce. With rice and beans. My advice, get really good at cooking rice, beans, and potatoes. Make sure you have a good selection of spices. Throw whatever extra money you have at whatever meats you can." - himthatspeaks

"Sweet potato black bean burrito a la moosewood. The most basic version is just a sweet potato and a can of black beans (but much better with an upgrade of caramelized onions and some cumin)." - Upbeat-Poetry7672

"Sardines on toast with a over easy egg." - Gandi1200

"Green bean casserole! Takes 10mins and lasts me all week for dinner and lunch." - Kihakiru

"Pan fried Spam, sunny side up egg, over rice. Furikake seasoning to taste." - Cajunsalmon

"I don't make meals I don't enjoy eating, but these are easy, quick, healthy and yummy. 1/2 rice , 1/2 red lentils + cubed veggies (frozen or fresh) eventually crushed tomatoes or coconut milk. Baked savory oats : shredded veggies +oats and eventually eggs or cheese or tomato sauce. Dhal sooooooo delicious. Split pea soup." - sohereiamacrazyalien


Pop Culture

'Wicked' author says one line in 'The Wizard of Oz' inspired Elphaba and Glinda's backstory

Gregory Maguire says he "fell down to the ground" laughing when the idea hit him.

Public domain

The two witches in "The Wizard of Oz" clearly had a history together.

Have you ever watched a movie or read a book or listened to a piece of music and wondered, "How did they come up with that idea?" The creative process is so enigmatic even artists themselves don't always know where their ideas come from, so It's a treat when we get to hear the genesis of a brilliant idea straight from the horse's mouth. If you've watched "Wicked" and wondered where the idea for the friendship between Elphaba (the Wicked Witch) and Glinda (the Good Witch) came from, the author of the book has shared the precise moment it came to him.

The hit movie "Wicked" is based on the 20-year-old hit stage musical, which is based on the novel "Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West" written by Gregory Maguire. While the musical is a simplified version of the 1995 book, the basic storyline—the origin story of the two witches from "The Wizard of Oz"—lies at the heart of both. In an interview with BBC, Maguire explained how Elphaba and Glinda's friendship popped into his head.

 

Maguire was visiting Beatrix Potter's farm in Cumbria, England, and thinking about "The Wizard of Oz," which he had loved as a child and thought could be an interesting basis for a story about evil.

"I thought 'alright, what do we know about 'The Wizard of Oz' from our memories,'" he said. "We have the house falling on the witch. What do we know about that witch? All we know about that witch is that she has feet. So I began to think about Glinda and the Wicked Witch of the West…

 glinda, elphaba, wicked,  In "Wicked," the two Oz witches met as students at Shiz University.  Giphy GIF by Wicked 

"There is one scene in the 1939 film where Billie Burke [Glinda the Good Witch] comes down looking all pink and fluffy, and Margaret Hamilton [the Wicked Witch of the West] is all crawed and crabbed and she says something like, 'I might have known you'd be behind this, Glinda!' This was my memory, and I thought, now why is she using Glinda's first name? They have known each other. Maybe they've known each other for a long time. Maybe they went to college together. And I fell down onto the ground in the Lake District laughing at the thought that they had gone to college together."

In "Wicked," Glinda and the Wicked Witch, Elphaba, meet as students at Shiz University, a school of wizardry. They get placed as roommates, loathe each other at first, but eventually become best friends. The story grows a lot more complicated from there (and the novel goes darker than the stage play), but it's the character development of the two witches and their relationship with one another that force us to examine our ideas about good and evil.

  - YouTube  youtu.be  

 

Maguire also shared with the Denver Center for Performing Arts what had inspired him to use the "Wizard of Oz" characters in the first place.

"I was living in London in the early 1990’s during the start of the Gulf War. I was interested to see how my own blood temperature chilled at reading a headline in the usually cautious British newspaper, the Times of London: 'Sadaam Hussein: The New Hitler?' I caught myself ready to have a fully formed political opinion about the Gulf War and the necessity of action against Sadaam Hussein on the basis of how that headline made me feel. The use of the word Hitler – what a word! What it evokes! When a few months later several young schoolboys kidnapped and killed a toddler, the British press paid much attention to the nature of the crime. I became interested in the nature of evil, and whether one really could be born bad. I considered briefly writing a novel about Hitler but discarded the notion due to my general discomfort with the reality of those times. But when I realized that nobody had ever written about the second most evil character in our collective American subconscious, the Wicked Witch of the West, I thought I had experienced a small moment of inspiration. Everybody in America knows who the Wicked Witch of the West is, but nobody really knows anything about her. There is more to her than meets the eye."

 wizard of oz, wicked witch of the west The Wicked Witch of the West has a story of her own.  Giphy  

Authors and artists—and their ideas—help hold a mirror up to humanity for us to see and reflect on who we are, and "Wicked" is one of those stories that makes us take a hard look at what we're seeing in that mirror. Thanks, Gregory Maguire, for launching us on a collective journey that not only entertains but has the potential to change how we see one another.

This story originally appeared last year.

Walt Disney and Ray Bradbury.

The world’s greatest innovators think and behave differently from us mere mortals. They have a unique view of the world and are dedicated to their craft in ways that most would deem obsessive. But without that type of dedication, Steve Jobs could never have given us the Macintosh, Michael Jordan would never have been able to fly, and Michelangelo would have never painted the Sistine Chapel.

It’s hard for the average person to understand what makes a cultural innovator tick, which is why an interview with groundbreaking author Ray Bradbury on Walt Disney is so inspiring. It lifts the veil on what great artists see in one another that most of us can’t. Bradbury is the acclaimed author of classics such as Fahrenheit 451 and The Martian Chronicles, who was a friend of Disney and worked with his legendary company as a creative consultant.

What did Ray Bradbury think of Walt Disney?

In a 2004 interview, Bradbury explained where the incredibly ambitious and creative Disney got his drive and determination.


“If there’s any secret at all, it’s because Walt, like myself, is not an optimist but an optimal behaviorist. Which means that every day of your life, if you behave well, you begin to feel well,” Bradbury said. “So that’s not false, that’s real. You get your work done every day, and at the end of a week, a month, a year, you’ll turn around and say, hey, look what I did. So you feel good. That’s real optimism. Optimal behavior.”

“He could look back at the end of each year and see his behavior, and it made him want to go on. A lot of people are pessimists because they’ve never done anything,” Bradbury continued. “If you go to bed every night having not done anything, you’re going to wake up unhappy, aren’t you? So the answer to that is do something every day. Be busy, for God’s sake, be busy.”

 walt disney, disney world, mickey mouse, disney company, disney theme parks, A statue of Walt Disney and Mickey Mouse.via Paul Beattie/Flickr

What is a behavioral optimist?

Although “behavioral optimist” isn’t an official psychological term, it’s one that Bradbury often used to describe himself. “I’ve learned that by doing things, things get done. I’m not an optimist; I’m an optimal behaviorist. We ensure the future by doing it,” he said. “Optimists and pessimists are blind. But I’m not either. I’m an optimal behaviorist. In other words, I behave at the top of my lungs every day. There’s no guarantee, but you’re going to have a heck of a lot of fun. You’ll come to the end of your life with the secure knowledge that you tried everything.”

There are just two critical things in life, he said, “Being in love with your wife or husband and being in love with your work. And then everything’s fine.”

If you’ve always dreamed of living a life like Walt Disney, using your imagination to entertain and uplift humanity, you can start by looking at life in the same way. Big goals can often seem too lofty when we think about the finished product. Instead, take small, consistent steps every day towards achieving your goal. Writing a 300-page book may seem like too much work, but if you write a page a day, you’ll have a book before the end of the year. The key is to stay focused and consistent, just like Uncle Walt.

What an amazingly kind gesture.

Closed adoptions—meaning adoptions with no contact between the biological parents and adoptive families—offer privacy, protection and emotional closure. However, it can understandably still be incredibly difficult for biological mothers to instantly and drastically remove their biological child from their life, even if they know they are doing what's best.

This was the case for Alicia Mae Holloway’s biological mom. In a video shared to her TikTok account, the dancer and television personality shared that her adoptive mother, Evelyn, “saw how hard it was” for her birth mom to give Holloway up for adoption. So Evelyn came up with a kind gesture that Holloway dubbed “the sweetest thing.”

“She was like, ‘okay, I’ll make you a deal. Every six months, I’ll send you a picture of Alicia and a little update in a written card of how she’s doing.’”

Getting those biannual letters out wasn’t as simple as dropping them off in the mail either.

As Holloway explained, she had been conceived during an affair her birth mother—a white woman, married to a white man, with three white children—had with a Black man. Not only could Holloway’s birth mom not afford a fourth kid, she feared what her “racist” family might do upon seeing a biracial baby, and told everyone that it was a stillborn.

All this to say, Holloway’s birth mom didn’t want the letters arriving at her home, potentially risking anyone from her family seeing it. Evelyn would therefore need to send the letters to a friend’s house.

But sure enough, Evelyn kept good on that promise. For 17 years, Holloways' birth mom got to celebrate milestones in her daughter’s life. Meanwhile, Holloway had no idea this exchange was happening.

“I get chills when I think about how she was watching me grow up and I had no idea,” Holloway told Today. “She knew I was a dancer and that I was doing beauty pageants and that I was a good kid.”

Holloway added that just before her 18th birthday, she was made aware of her adoptive mom’s kind gesture. And they even went to meet Holloway’s birth mom, an event Holloway that noted was in many ways more emotional for her two moms than it was for her, recalling that both women “had a long, long, long embrace and were both bawling their eyes out.”

As for Holloway, she told Today that she feels no ill will towards her biological mom. Rather, she sees the decision as “an act of love," that set her up for a truly “amazing life.” At the end of their meeting, after the important questions pertaining to family health history and whatnot, all she had to say was “thank you.”

And from the looks of it, she is as happy as ever living life with her adopted parents, who honestly could pass for her biological parents any day.

It's interesting to think about how none of us know our full life story, how many things both bigs and small remain mysteries. But when we are lucky enough to discover hidden truths, we unlock yet another part of ourselves.

This article originally appeared last year.