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My Wife and I Went to an Orphanage to Adopt a Child and Found a Girl Who Is a Carbon Copy of Our Daughter

On a crisp autumn morning, the air carried a faint chill as Emily and I prepared for a day that would change our lives forever. It wasn’t just any day—it was the day we hoped to grow our family. The idea of adoption had been a long-discussed and carefully considered decision, but even with all the preparation, there was still a knot of nervous energy between us.

“Emily, are you ready?” I called out as I laced my shoes. My mother had graciously agreed to watch our five-year-old daughter, Sophia, so we could spend the entire day at the shelter.

Emily appeared at the top of the stairs, her hands smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her blouse. “I think so, David,” she said softly. Her voice carried a tremor, a mix of hope and apprehension. “What if the child doesn’t connect with us? What if…”

“Hey,” I interrupted, walking over to take her hands. “We’ve talked about this. We’re ready. And if any kid is lucky enough to have you making pancakes for them, they’ll fall in love immediately.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. “You always know how to ease my nerves.”

Sophia peeked around the corner, her big brown eyes curious. “Mommy, can I have pancakes tomorrow?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Emily replied, bending down to kiss her forehead. But there was a flicker of sadness in her gaze—a quiet longing I’d come to recognize. While Emily loved Sophia as her own, she’d dreamed of the day she’d hear a child call her “Mommy” from the start.

As we drove to the shelter, the car was filled with a tense silence, broken only by the occasional hum of the radio. Emily stared out the window, twisting her wedding ring absentmindedly.

“You okay?” I asked, glancing over.

“I’m just… scared,” she admitted. “What if we don’t find the right connection? What if no one feels like… ours?”

I reached over to squeeze her hand. “We will,” I said. “Love always finds a way.”

When we arrived at the shelter, we were greeted by Mrs. Graham, an older woman with kind eyes and a warm demeanor. She led us into her office, a cozy room filled with photos of smiling children and happy families.

“Thank you for coming,” she said as we sat down. “Adoption is such a special journey, and we’re honored to be part of yours.”

Emily nodded, her voice tinged with vulnerability as she explained, “We’re open to any background. We just… want to find the child who feels right.”

Mrs. Graham smiled knowingly. “I understand. Let me show you the playroom. Sometimes, the connection you’re looking for happens when you least expect it.”

The playroom was a vibrant space filled with laughter, toys, and the boundless energy of children. Emily’s eyes lit up as she crouched beside a little boy meticulously stacking blocks.

“Hi there,” she said gently. “That’s quite the tower. What’s your name?”

“Eli,” the boy said with a proud grin. “Don’t knock it over!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Emily replied with a laugh.

Meanwhile, I found myself chatting with a little girl drawing on a chalkboard. “What are you making?” I asked.

“A unicorn,” she said confidently. “Are you a dad?”

“I am. Do you like dads?”

“They’re okay,” she replied with a shrug, her focus unwavering.

As I looked across the room, my eyes met Emily’s, and I could see the same thought reflected in her expression. How could we possibly choose? Each child had a unique spark, and the decision felt impossibly overwhelming.

Just then, I felt a tiny tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I saw a little girl standing behind me. She looked to be about five years old, with honey-brown hair, round cheeks, and deep dimples that emerged when she smiled. My breath caught—she looked exactly like Sophia.

“Are you my new dad?” she asked, her voice soft but filled with quiet confidence.

I knelt down, struggling to find words. “What’s your name?”

“Angel,” she replied, holding up a puzzle piece. “Do you like puzzles? I’m really good at them.”

Her voice, her face, even the way she tilted her head—it was uncanny. My heart raced as I noticed something else: a small crescent-shaped birthmark on her wrist. Sophia had the exact same mark in the exact same spot.

“Emily,” I whispered, turning to my wife. She was frozen in place, her hand gripping the back of a chair for support. Her wide eyes darted from Angel’s face to the birthmark. “Look at her wrist.”

Emily’s face went pale, and she whispered back, “David… she’s…”

I turned back to Angel, my mind racing. The realization hit me like a tidal wave. Four years earlier, my ex-wife, Lisa, had revealed that she was pregnant when we divorced. She’d brought Sophia to me shortly after her birth, but she had never mentioned twins.

A storm of emotions swirled in my chest. I needed answers, and I needed them now. Excusing myself, I stepped outside and dialed Lisa’s number.

“David?” Lisa answered after a few rings. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” I said bluntly. “I’m at a children’s shelter, and there’s a girl here who looks exactly like Sophia. She has the same birthmark, Lisa. Tell me the truth—did you have twins?”

The line went silent before Lisa let out a shaky sigh. “Yes, David. I had twins. I was overwhelmed, broke, and I couldn’t take care of both. I thought giving one of them up would give her a better chance. I didn’t tell you because… I didn’t know how.”

I closed my eyes, trying to process her words. “Lisa, she’s our daughter. She’s Sophia’s twin. I’m bringing her home.”

When I returned to the playroom, Angel was laughing with Emily, the two of them working on a puzzle together. My heart swelled as I knelt beside them.

“Angel,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm inside me, “would you like to come home with us?”

Her face lit up. “Really? I can have a home?”

“Yes,” Emily said, tears streaming down her face. “You already have a sister waiting for you.”

The adoption process moved faster than we expected, and a week later, we brought Angel home. When Sophia saw her twin for the first time, she squealed with delight. “We’re the same!” she exclaimed, hugging Angel tightly.

From that day forward, our home was filled with the joyful chaos of two inseparable sisters. Watching them grow together, I knew one thing for certain: love doesn’t just find a way—it creates miracles.

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Animal lover finds squirrel with giant tooth, brings him home and gives him a new opportunity – thank you

Living on a ranch in rural Alberta, Canada, Jannet Talbott may be far away from people but is never alone as she is always surrounded by animals.

The animal lover is used to the many animals, both domestic and wild, who live on her ranch and looks out for them all.

One day she was watching a squirrel enjoying a snack from her bird feeder when she noticed something unusual on his face.

“I could see there was something on the side of his face,” Talbott told The Dodo. “I got closer and thought, ‘Oh my gosh, that’s a massive tooth growing out of his mouth.’”

Squirrels have four front teeth that never stop growing but their constant gnawing on nuts and seeds ensure most squirrels’ teeth are kept short. Somehow this had not happened with this squirrel and Jannet knew he was in danger.

The tooth was growing toward the squirrel’s eye and Jannet suspected he was living on powdered bird food as he couldn’t chew on anything.

Now she had the difficult task of trying to catch Bucky, as she named him, so she could give him the help he needed.

“One day, I saw him in the feeder. It was like divine intervention. I just had to reach in and grab him,” she said. “Once I had him in my hand, I just kept telling him, ‘I’m going to help you, Bucky. You’re going to be OK.’”

When Jannet had the canine challenged squirrel in her hands she saw that it wasn’t just one tooth that was an issue.

“His mouth was an absolute mess. His upper incisors were curled around and growing inside his mouth,” she said. “When he ate, his teeth were rubbing on his face. He was so horrific.”

She worried that if she took Bucky to a vet they may not be able to do anything for him and the journey would stress him out too much so she grabbed her cuticle trimmers and attempted the job herself.

After watching some instructional videos on YouTube, Jannet swaddled Bucky and covered his eyes; he instantly became calm which was lucky for this talented rancher as the job took ten minutes.

Squirrels have no feeling in their teeth and even after she had finished trimming, the squirrel was in “no hurry to get away,” Jannet said, as per CBC Canada.

“I took him outside, and he ran to a branch and started rubbing his little cheeks. It was like he couldn’t believe those teeth were gone. He just kept rubbing his face,” she said.

“The next day, I saw him back in the feeder — and he had the most amazing little squirrel smile on his face. He was just so happy.”

Now Jannet hopes to inspire others to help a needy animal.

“I really feel a deep connection to animals, and they always seem to come to me when they need help,” she added.

“I’m always happy to help them, and I think if we all did a little, it would end up being a lot.”


I cannot imagine how nervous Jannet must have been attempting dentistry on this creature in distress but thank goodness she did as he may have starved to death had she not been brave that day.

Help us thank this animal hero by sharing this story.

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Jane Fonda ‘calls out Donald Trump’ during SAG award speech

Jane Fonda's speech. Credit / Getty Images
Jane Fonda’s speech. Credit / Getty Images

Jane Fonda’s hardly been a stranger to political controversy over the course of her long and storied career. Once dubbed “Hanoi Jane” after being photographed sitting on a North Vietnamese anti-aircraft gun in 1972, it’s fair to say she’s had her fair share of public chastisement.

The actress was also an opinion-splitting figure as far back as the 1960s, when she actively supported the Civil Rights Movement and the Black Panthers to the chagrin of certain sections of society.

This past weekend, Fonda was awarded the Screen Actors’ Guild (SAG) Life Achievement Award, and used part of her speech to throw shade in the direction of President Donald Trump.

With the current political climate in the US testy to say the least, it’s hardly a wonder that many of the country’s biggest celebrities are making their voices heard.

For 87-year-old Fonda, Sunday’s SAG Awards provided the perfect platform to make a statement.

“Thank you SAG AFTRA. Your enthusiasm makes this seem less like a late twilight of my life, and more like a go girl, kick a**. Which is good because I’m not done.” Fonda said.

Though she didn’t directly namedrop President Trump, Fonda referenced Sebastian Stan’s portrayal of him in 2024’s The Apprentice.

Jane Fonda’s speech

“Though you may hate the behavior of your character, you have to understand and empathize with the traumatized person you’re playing,” she said.

The actress proceeded to then defend ‘wokeness’, stating: “Empathy is not weak or ‘woke.’ And, by the way, ‘woke’ just means you give a damn about other people.

“A whole lot of people are going to be hurt by what’s happening, by what’s coming our way,” she continued.”‘We are going to need a big tent to resist what’s coming at us.”

“And even if they are of a different political persuasion, we need to call upon our empathy and not judge, but listen from our hearts, and welcome them into our tent. Because we are gonna need a big tent to resist successfully what’s coming at us.”

Fonda’s comments come in the wake of some turbulent weeks in US politics. Many had anticipated that Trump’s second term in office would mean chaos, but few could have predicted just how fast the apple cart might be tipped upside down.

Amid a slew of executive orders and typically boisterous claims – many of which have questionable ties to reality – Trump has wasted no time at all in trying to enforce large-scale changes, for better or for worse.

His newly-founded Department of Government Efficiency, headed by Elon Musk, has come in for particular criticism in recent days, while Trump’s apparent siding with despot Vladimir Putin in an attempt to negotiate an end to the war in Ukraine has caused concern on the international stage.

What did you make of Jane Fonda’s statement? Let us know in the comments.

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A Black baby was born to my wife, and I was by her side forever

There was an almost electric sense of expectancy in the delivery room. Emma, my wife, was lying on the hospital bed with her fingers clenched around mine and a look of excitement mixed with fatigue. A dreamlike atmosphere was created by the quiet voices of the nurses, the regular beeping of the monitors, and the doctor’s gentle words of encouragement.

It was this. The time we had been anticipating. Choosing baby clothes, experiencing small kicks in the middle of the night, and nine months of delight. We spent nine months wondering if our unborn child would have Emma’s golden hair. My angular cheekbones? The dimples that were inherited? Everything else in the room was broken by a piercing wail. The baby was here.

I looked over and saw the doctor gently lifting our baby, her face wrinkled up as she drew her first breaths, her tiny limbs wriggling. My eyes pricked with tears. She was flawless. But Emma’s terrified scream, which I had not anticipated, broke the moment.

“This isn’t my child!” The room became quiet. The nurses froze. The doctor paused in mid-step. I thought my wife would be overwhelmed, perhaps simply in shock from giving birth. However, the expression in her eyes was one of utter incredulity rather than simply fatigue.

In an attempt to maintain composure, one of the nurses gave a soft grin. She remarked, “She’s still attached to you,” as though to reassure my wife that nothing was wrong. Emma, however, gasped for air and shook her head angrily. “It’s not feasible! Never in my life have I dated a Black man!

The words were piercing and weighty as they hung in the air. Everyone was uncertain of how to respond, and the room remained strangely still. As I turned to face our daughter, a gorgeous newborn girl with skin that was substantially darker than either of ours, my heartbeat hammered in my ears. However, her features were definitely ours.

Emma was shaking next to me, and it felt like the whole world was tilting beneath her. I grounded her by squeezing her hand and making her look at me. I stated unequivocally, “She’s our baby,” in a firm voice. “That’s the only thing that counts.”

Emma’s gaze shifted from our daughter to me and back again. As a nurse gently placed the infant in her arms, she gasped. At first, she seemed hesitant to touch her, as though she was scared of something she didn’t comprehend. However, something changed the instant our daughter’s little fingers encircled her pinky.

She loosened her shoulders. Something softer replaced the stiffness in her face. She felt a mixture of relief, tiredness, and love as tears filled her eyes. She let out a trembling breath. She muttered, “She’s gorgeous.” The room seems to breathe once more. The nurses looked at each other but continued working. With a nod, the doctor and I exchanged a quiet agreement.

The days that followed were a haze. I found myself watching our kid nonstop while Emma recovered, trying to figure out what was going on. She had my chin, my nose, and even the same tiny frown I had as a newborn, so I knew without a doubt that she was my. However, Emma’s tirade persisted.

She had been so convinced, not because I had any suspicions or doubts about her. Emma was the first to propose the DNA test. “I just need to know,” she said one evening in a little, nearly embarrassed voice. “I do love her.” But I must comprehend.

So we did it. We waited after sending off the samples. Two weeks later, the results were received. Emma opened the email with shaking hands. My heart was racing as I stood behind her. As she read, she covered her mouth with one hand and gasped.

The screen showed her ancestry record, which in bold letters verified what we had never known: Emma had generations of African ancestry. She turned to face me, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I didn’t know,” she muttered. “All this time, I was unaware.”

I kissed the top of her head as I drew her into my arms. I muttered, “It doesn’t change anything.” “We own her. She was always. Emma laughed softly and drippingly. “I suppose my panic was in vain.” I grinned. “Well, people experience that during childbirth.” She pushed me and rolled her eyes, then turned to face our daughter, who was now soundly asleep in her cradle. There were no more questions after that. Just love. The world had its questions, of course.

Members of the family arched their brows. In supermarket stores, strangers made remarks on the discrepancies. “Is she adopted?” some even questioned. Emma would initially become uneasy when asked those questions because she wasn’t sure how to react. Then, however, she would smile and declare, “No,” with utter assurance.

We own her. We vowed to nurture our kid with pride in all facets of her background as the years went by. We studied the customs, background, and cultures associated with Emma’s DNA as we dug deeper into her newfound ancestry. We made sure our kid never doubted her place in the world by surrounding her with love.

She played with her fingers while sitting on Emma’s lap one evening when she was around five years old. She said, “Mommy?” “What causes my skin to differ from yours?” Emma brushed a curl from her forehead and grinned. “Because you are unique, my dear. You had a lovely past that we both shared. “Like a mix?” she tilted her head in question. “Exactly,” I remarked as I sat next to them. “Like the most exquisite painting, with both Mommy’s and Daddy’s colours.” Satisfied with the response, she smiled and resumed playing.

“Thank you for reminding me that day in the hospital,” Emma muttered as she sought for my hand as we watched her sleep that night. “For what purpose?” “That she belongs to us,” she declared. “That was all that was ever important.” And I knew without a doubt that I would always be there for them as I gazed at my daughter, who was so lovely and full of love. through each query. through each obstacle. through everything. Because appearances weren’t important in family. It wasn’t.

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