by Leah Jane Esau
They said there were faces so ugly that “only a mother could love.” But there were faces even uglier than that apparently. For when the nurse put the baby in Bria’s arms, she frowned.
“This isn’t my baby.”
“It is,” the nurse said.
“This can’t be my baby. Where is my baby?”
Bria’s husband, Michael, pulled the doctor aside. Continue reading
Hawaii Pacific Review 