The week after the adoption is surreal.Every time I look at Ivy, I think: my daughter. Legally. Permanently. Mine.The new birth certificate arrives on Thursday. Seraphina Blackwood listed as mother. Right there. Official.Ivy insists we frame it. "Like a diploma. Because it's important. It says you're my mom forever."We hang it in her room. Next to her drawings. Her awards. Her life."Now everyone knows," she says, satisfied. "Official-official.""Official-official," I agree.At work, Patricia calls me into her office. "The shelter project was such a success that we've received inquiries. Three more cities want similar facilities. Would you be interested in leading the designs?"Three more shelters. Three more safe spaces. Three more chances to help."Absolutely. Yes.""Good. Because I've also been approached about a documentary. About you. About the shelter. About turning trauma into purpose. They want to interview you, follow the shelter residents, show the impact.""A documentar
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