Chapter 6 — Footprints Find Your Child

The world is finally quiet. But I didn't get better immediately. Before So An was three months old, I woke up several times every night. When I woke up, I looked at my feet. Sometimes when my child sleeps too deeply, I will put my hand under his nose and confirm his breathing. On the day of the residential area's fire prevention drill, as soon as the alarm sounded, I hugged Sister An and hid in the closet. Ha Nghien Hanh couldn't find me when he came home, and his voice also changed. When I opened the closet door, I hugged my baby and cowered inside, my whole body covered in sweat. He didn't say "it's over". Also don't say "don't think too much". He squatted down, hugging both me and So An in his arms. “It's a drill.” “The door is locked.” “I'm here.” “So An is also here.” I trembled for a long time before slowly letting go. Then I went to psychological counseling. The doctor asked me to describe that night. I can't say. I could only turn on my phone and show her a photo of Sister An's fingerprints. Three hours after birth. The date is swapped back. Full month. One hundred days. Each plate has that crescent moon pattern. The doctor asked: “What does it mean to you?” I said: "It proves that he is my son." The doctor was silent for a moment. “It also proves that you weren't crazy back then.” My tears immediately fell. That's right. The scariest thing that night was not just that the child was switched. It's that everyone says I'm crazy. Say I'm jealous. Say I want to tuck a sick child into someone else's hands. Say the bracelet is right, the system is right, the process is right, the wrong person is me. Only the crescent moon tells me that I'm not crazy. When Sister An was over four months old, one night she woke up crying. I change my baby's diaper. As soon as he lifted his little foot, he suddenly burst out laughing, his little foot kicking my palm. The crescent moon is clearly illuminated by the light. I bowed my head and kissed it. It makes me laugh even more happily. Ha Nghien Hanh leaned at the door and looked at us. “It's ticklish.” “I know.” “You're crying again.” I wipe my face. "Do not have." He came over and sat down next to me. Sister An waved her small hand and suddenly made a vague sound. “Mom…” My whole body stiffened. Ha Nghien Hanh also froze. “Did you call me just now?” I held my breath. Sister An blew a milk bubble and called out softly. “Mom…” Not correct. Very softly. But I heard it. I held my child in my arms, tears falling on his shirt. “It's mom.”