I always believed my sister and I would grow old together — sharing laughter, secrets, and the kind of unbreakable bond that only siblings understand. But I never imagined that the same love that bound us would one day shatter my heart.
Claire, my older sister at 38, had always been the golden one — graceful, composed, admired by everyone. I was 34, a little chaotic, always running late, but full of love. When she asked me to carry her baby after years of infertility and heartbreak, I didn’t even hesitate.
“If I can do this for you, then I will,” I told her.
She cried in my arms that day. “You’re saving us,” she whispered.
A Gift of Love
We went through every legal and medical step, determined to do things right. I already had two children, so I knew the joy — and exhaustion — of motherhood. Claire, who had suffered multiple miscarriages, deserved that same happiness.
When the pregnancy was confirmed, it felt like a miracle. Every kick, every heartbeat was shared between us. She never missed an appointment, bringing smoothies, vitamins, and baby name ideas. Ethan, her husband, painted the nursery himself. “Everything has to be perfect,” he said.
Continue reading on next page…