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The kids and my parents cheer happily as I stand up and sweep Abby into a massive hug. There are hugs and congratulations all around, and my mom goes into the house and returns with a bottle of champagne she had chilling in the refrigerator in their room.
“Abby, we just couldn’t be happier to have you in our family,” Mom says as a toast.
We clink glasses—the kids’ filled with sparkling apple cider Mom brought out, too—and drink to the future.
A future I never would have predicted, but wouldn’t change for the world. Our family is made up of five imperfect people, but together, we’re perfect.
