{"id":18808,"date":"2026-09-09T10:20:16","date_gmt":"2026-09-09T10:20:16","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/?p=18808"},"modified":"2026-09-09T10:20:27","modified_gmt":"2026-09-09T10:20:27","slug":"my-moms-flower-tattoo-made-a-nurse-call-security","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/?p=18808","title":{"rendered":"My Moms Flower Tattoo Made A Nurse Call Security"},"content":{"rendered":"

For as long as I could remember, my mother had a tiny blue flower tattooed on the inside of her left wrist.<\/strong><\/h1>\n

**Part 1**<\/p>\n

And for as long as I could remember, she refused to tell me what it meant.
\nIt wasn\u2019t an elaborate tattoo.
\nJust five small blue petals and a thin stem, no larger than a coin.<\/p>\n

As a child, I used to sit on her lap during warm summer evenings and trace the flower with my finger.
\n\u201cWhere did you get this?\u201d I asked once when I was about seven.
\nMom smiled down at me.
\n\u201cI got it when I was young.\u201d
\n\u201cDoes it mean something?\u201d
\nHer smile changed slightly.
\n\u201cIt means I was young and made a decision.\u201d
\nThen she kissed the top of my head and changed the subject.<\/p>\n

That became her standard answer.
\nI asked again when I was eleven, during a phase when I thought tattoos were the coolest thing in the world.
\nI asked again at fifteen, when I briefly decided I might get the same flower someday so we could have matching tattoos.
\nAnd I asked again in my twenties, when I became curious about who my mother had been before she became \u201cMom.\u201d<\/p>\n

Every time, she gave me some variation of the same answer.
\nShe had been young.
\nShe had made a choice.
\nEnd of story.<\/p>\n

There was only one time I pushed harder.
\nI was nineteen and home from college for the summer.
\nWe were washing dishes together when I asked again.
\nShe gave me her usual response.
\nI laughed.
\n\u201cCome on, Mom. It\u2019s just a tattoo. Why do you act like it\u2019s some huge secret?\u201d<\/p>\n

Her hands stopped moving in the soapy water.
\nSomething passed across her face.
\nAt nineteen, I couldn\u2019t identify it.
\nNow I know it was sadness.
\n\u201cSome things are just for me, Emma,\u201d she said softly. \u201cMaybe you\u2019ll understand when you\u2019re older.\u201d
\nI rolled my eyes and let it go.<\/p>\n

Eventually, I stopped asking.
\nMy mother\u2019s name was Helen.
\nShe was the kind of woman everybody depended on.
\nIf someone in the neighborhood was sick, she organized meals.
\nIf someone forgot a birthday, Helen remembered.
\nIf somebody needed help, she arrived with food, practical advice, and enough patience to listen for as long as necessary.<\/p>\n

She had worked as a nurse for most of her adult life.
\nEven after retiring, she carried herself with that same calm competence.
\nWhenever something went wrong, you automatically assumed Helen would know what to do.<\/p>\n

The tattoo was the only part of her she kept completely private.
\nEverything else about my mother felt open.
\nThat little blue flower was the one locked door.
\nEventually, I decided she had a right to keep one thing to herself.
\nSo I stopped wondering about it.
\nMostly.<\/p>\n

By the time Mom was sixty-three, I was thirty-two.
\nWe were extremely close.
\nWe talked several times a week about ordinary things.
\nShe worried that I didn\u2019t eat properly.
\nI worried that she spent too many hours working in her garden.<\/p>\n

My father had died six years earlier from a sudden heart attack in his sleep.
\nLosing him had brought Mom and me even closer.
\nI helped her sort through paperwork, insurance policies, bank accounts, and all the administrative details that come with losing a spouse after forty years of marriage.<\/p>\n

During that time, I learned all kinds of things about my parents that I hadn\u2019t known before.
\nSweet things.
\nFunny things.
\nSmall details about their marriage.
\nBy the end of it, I genuinely believed there were no major family secrets left.
\nI was wrong.<\/p>\n

The truth finally came out because of my mother\u2019s knee.
\nShe had struggled with pain for years, always minimizing it because that was what she did with anything involving herself.
\nThen she fell in her driveway one winter.
\nAfter that, she finally admitted she could barely manage the stairs.
\nHer doctor recommended knee replacement surgery.<\/p>\n

Everything sounded routine.
\nThe surgeon explained that she would probably be walking with assistance that same day and home within a couple of nights.
\nMom prepared for recovery like she was planning a military operation.
\nShe checked her insurance repeatedly.
\nShe asked for estimated charges in advance.
\nShe moved a bed downstairs.
\nShe installed a handrail.
\nShe stocked her freezer with meals.
\nShe even chose a physical therapist before surgery.<\/p>\n

That was Mom.
\nAlways prepared.
\nI still took the day off work to be with her.
\nRoutine surgery or not, she was my mother.<\/p>\n

That morning, the hospital was calm.
\nWe checked in and completed the paperwork.
\nEventually, a nurse named Patricia brought us into the pre-op area.
\nPatricia was warm and experienced, probably in her late forties, and she had the kind of relaxed bedside manner that immediately made people comfortable.<\/p>\n

She helped Mom change into a gown, reviewed medications and allergies, and talked about recovery.
\n\u201cThe physical therapy is the important part,\u201d Patricia explained. \u201cDo the exercises even when you don\u2019t feel like doing them, and you\u2019ll recover much faster.\u201d
\nMom laughed.
\n\u201cI was a nurse for years. I know exactly what hospital staff say about patients who refuse their exercises.\u201d
\nPatricia laughed too.
\n\u201cOh, then you\u2019re going to be our favorite patient.\u201d<\/p>\n

Everything felt completely ordinary.
\nI was scrolling through my phone when Patricia said:
\n\u201cAll right, Helen. I\u2019m going to start your IV now.\u201d<\/p>\n

She pushed the sleeve of Mom\u2019s hospital gown higher.
\nThen she stopped.
\nThe sudden silence made me look up.
\nPatricia was holding my mother\u2019s wrist.
\nAnd she was staring directly at the blue flower.<\/p>\n

Her entire expression had changed.
\nThe friendly smile was gone.
\nShe looked stunned.
\nNot confused.
\nNot curious.
\nShe looked like she recognized it.<\/p>\n

For several seconds, Patricia simply stared.
\nThen she seemed to collect herself.
\nShe gently pulled Mom\u2019s sleeve back down over the tattoo.
\n\u201cI\u2019ll be back in a moment,\u201d she said.
\nHer voice sounded controlled, but tense.
\n\u201cI need to check something.\u201d
\nThen she left.<\/p>\n

Mom and I looked at each other.
\n\u201cThat was strange,\u201d I said.
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nMom\u2019s voice sounded calm.
\nHer hands did not.
\nShe had folded them tightly in her lap.
\n\u201cDo you know what that was about?\u201d
\nMom looked down at her covered wrist.
\n\u201cI\u2019m sure it\u2019s nothing.\u201d<\/p>\n

But I knew my mother.
\nShe didn\u2019t believe it was nothing.
\nSomething about her expression told me she had been afraid of this moment for a very long time.
\n
\n**Part 2**<\/p>\n

Five minutes passed.
\nPatricia didn\u2019t return.
\nThen I noticed two hospital security officers standing outside the room.
\nThey weren\u2019t rushing.
\nThey were speaking quietly and occasionally glancing through the door.
\nMy stomach tightened.
\n\u201cMom.\u201d
\n\u201cI see them,\u201d she whispered.<\/p>\n

The door opened.
\nA physician entered with the two officers.
\nHe was probably in his fifties, with gray hair and the calm authority of someone senior.
\nHe wasn\u2019t Mom\u2019s surgeon.
\nHe introduced himself as Dr. Reeves.
\nBut he wasn\u2019t looking at my mother\u2019s face.
\nHe was staring at her wrist.<\/p>\n

\u201cMa\u2019am,\u201d he said carefully, \u201cwhere did you get that symbol?\u201d
\nSymbol.
\nNot tattoo.
\nSymbol.
\nMy mother went completely pale.
\nThat was when I knew this wasn\u2019t some misunderstanding.<\/p>\n

Mom didn\u2019t answer.
\n\u201cMom?\u201d I asked. \u201cWhat is happening?\u201d
\nShe looked at me.
\nFor the first time in my life, I saw genuine fear in her eyes.
\nThen she looked down at her wrist.
\n\u201cI knew this day would come,\u201d she whispered.<\/p>\n

Dr. Reeves pulled a chair closer and sat in front of her.
\nHe gestured for security to remain near the door.
\n\u201cHelen,\u201d he said gently, \u201cI want to explain why everyone is here. I know this must be frightening.\u201d
\nMom nodded.
\n\u201cThe flower on your wrist is not simply decorative.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at him.
\nHe continued.
\n\u201cIt was an identification mark used approximately thirty years ago by a residential program for children called Maplewood House.\u201d
\nMy mother closed her eyes.<\/p>\n

Dr. Reeves continued.
\n\u201cChildren who stayed in that program received the blue flower mark with guardian consent. Patricia recognized it because she volunteered there as a teenager.\u201d
\nSuddenly, the entire morning made sense.
\nPatricia hadn\u2019t been frightened by the tattoo.
\nShe had recognized it.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaplewood House eventually closed,\u201d Dr. Reeves said. \u201cThe administrators came under investigation for serious financial misconduct.\u201d
\nHe paused.
\n\u201cBut the larger problem involved the children\u2019s records.\u201d
\nThe room became very quiet.
\n\u201cInvestigators discovered that some adoption files had been altered. Names were changed. Family histories were obscured. Birth and medical records were sometimes falsified. Connections to biological relatives were lost.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at Mom.
\nShe was staring at the floor.
\nDr. Reeves explained that investigators had recently reopened parts of the old case.
\nThey had spent months trying to identify adults who had once lived at Maplewood House.
\nBut the records were incomplete and inconsistent.
\nThe little blue tattoos were one of the few pieces of evidence that couldn\u2019t easily be rewritten.
\n\u201cA document can be altered,\u201d he said. \u201cA mark someone has carried on their skin for decades is different.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then he looked directly at my mother.
\n\u201cHelen, were you connected to Maplewood House?\u201d
\nMom looked at me.
\nFor a long moment, neither of us spoke.
\nThen something in her expression changed.
\nIt was as though thirty years of avoiding one conversation had finally ended.
\n\u201cI worked there,\u201d she said.
\nI stared at her.
\n\u201cAs a nurse.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

Her eyes filled with tears.
\n\u201cEmma, there\u2019s something I should have told you years ago.\u201d
\nMy heart started pounding.
\n\u201cI tried many times. I really did. But every time I thought I was ready, I became afraid.\u201d
\n\u201cAfraid of what?\u201d
\nShe took a shaky breath.
\nThen she said the words that changed everything I thought I knew about my life.
\n\u201cYou weren\u2019t born to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t speak.
\nThe normal sounds of the hospital continued outside the room.
\nCarts moving.
\nPhones ringing.
\nPeople talking.
\nBut inside that room, the world had stopped.
\n\u201cWhat are you saying?\u201d
\nMom reached for my hand.
\n\u201cI adopted you.\u201d
\nI stared at her.
\n\u201cFrom Maplewood?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

For several seconds, I simply looked at her.
\nThen she began telling me the story.
\nI had been two years old when I arrived at Maplewood House.
\nMy biological parents had been involved in a serious car accident.
\nNeither survived.
\nThere had been relatives on both sides of my biological family, but complicated disagreements prevented anyone from immediately taking custody.
\nWeeks turned into months.
\nNobody came.<\/p>\n

Mom was working at Maplewood as a nurse at the time.
\nShe and my father had been trying unsuccessfully to have children for years.
\nTreatments.
\nDisappointments.
\nHope followed by more disappointment.
\nThey were beginning to accept that parenthood might never happen for them.
\nThen Mom met me.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe first time I met you,\u201d she said, crying now, \u201cyou grabbed my finger and wouldn\u2019t let go.\u201d
\nShe smiled through her tears.
\n\u201cThat was it for me.\u201d
\nEventually, she and Dad adopted me.
\n\u201cLegally,\u201d she emphasized. \u201cCompletely legally.\u201d
\nThey had hired an independent attorney because Mom already suspected something wasn\u2019t right about Maplewood.
\nEvery form had been reviewed.
\nEvery court requirement had been completed.
\nWhatever corruption existed at the facility, my adoption itself had been legitimate.<\/p>\n

I listened.
\nThen I asked the question that hurt the most.
\n\u201cWhy didn\u2019t you tell me?\u201d
\nMom\u2019s face crumpled.
\nShe explained that when I was little, they had been advised to wait until I was old enough to understand.
\nSo they waited.
\nThen, when I was old enough, she became afraid.
\nShe kept imagining the perfect moment.
\nMy tenth birthday passed.
\nThen my eleventh.
\nThen my twelfth.
\nEvery year gave her another excuse.
\nNot today.
\nNot yet.
\nEventually, telling me became harder precisely because she had waited so long.<\/p>\n

\u201cWere you afraid I would leave?\u201d I asked.
\nShe didn\u2019t avoid the question.
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nHer voice broke.
\n\u201cI was terrified that if you knew, you might look at me differently. That you might go searching for something else and stop seeing me as your mother.\u201d
\nShe squeezed my hand.
\n\u201cIt was selfish. I chose my fear over your right to know your own story. And I am so sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

I sat on the edge of her hospital bed.
\nThen I took her left hand in mine.
\nThe hand with the little blue flower.
\nThe tattoo I had traced hundreds of times as a child.
\n\u201cI\u2019m not going anywhere,\u201d I said.
\nShe looked at me.
\n\u201cMom, look at me. I\u2019m not going anywhere.\u201d
\nTears rolled down her cheeks.
\n\u201cI love you.\u201d
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\nAnd I did.
\nThat had never been the question.
\nThirty-two years of being loved couldn\u2019t be erased by one revelation.
\nI was shocked.
\nI was hurt that she had kept something so important from me.
\nBut I never doubted she was my mother.
\n
\n**Part 3**<\/p>\n

Dr. Reeves gave us some time alone.
\nFor nearly twenty minutes, we barely spoke.
\nWe simply held hands.
\nEventually, Mom said:
\n\u201cYou know, I rehearsed the conversation for years.\u201d
\nI looked at her.
\n\u201cWhen you were little, I planned exactly what I would say. I decided I\u2019d tell you when you turned ten.\u201d
\nShe gave a sad laugh.
\n\u201cThen your tenth birthday came, and you were so happy blowing out your candles. I thought, not today.\u201d
\nShe shook her head.
\n\u201cThen came eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.\u201d
\nHer eyes lowered.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s how thirty years passes, Emma. One \u2018not today\u2019 at a time.\u201d
\n\u201cI wish you had told me.\u201d
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\n\u201cBut I understand how you got there.\u201d
\nHer eyes filled again.
\n\u201cI\u2019m shaken,\u201d I said. \u201cBut I\u2019m not angry.\u201d
\nShe gripped my hand so tightly it almost hurt.<\/p>\n

When Dr. Reeves returned, he brought a woman with him.
\nShe introduced herself as Agent Morris.
\nShe was part of the investigation into Maplewood House.
\nShe explained that dozens of former children had been identified as potentially having altered records.
\nSome had grown up their entire lives with inaccurate family histories.
\nSome had birthdays or names that might not even be correct.
\nOthers had spent decades wondering why parts of their personal histories never quite made sense.<\/p>\n

Then Agent Morris looked directly at me.
\n\u201cI want to make one thing clear immediately,\u201d she said. \u201cYour adoption was not compromised.\u201d
\nI exhaled.
\n\u201cHelen and her husband completed everything through proper legal channels. There is no question about the validity of your adoption.\u201d
\nSome tension I hadn\u2019t realized I was carrying finally left my chest.<\/p>\n

Then Agent Morris turned back to Mom.
\n\u201cDuring your time at Maplewood, did you keep anything? Records? Photographs? Copies of files?\u201d
\nMom went very still.
\nThen she nodded.
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nAgent Morris leaned forward.
\n\u201cHow much?\u201d
\n\u201cEverything I could.\u201d<\/p>\n

We all stared at her.
\nMom explained that when she began suspecting something was wrong with Maplewood, she quietly made copies of records.
\nChildren\u2019s files.
\nStaff information.
\nPhotographs.
\nDocuments.
\nShe kept them because she couldn\u2019t bring herself to throw them away.
\n\u201cWhere are they?\u201d Agent Morris asked.
\n\u201cIn my attic.\u201d
\n\u201cFor thirty years?\u201d
\nMom nodded.
\nAgent Morris looked almost stunned.
\n\u201cHelen, those files may be exactly what we\u2019ve been searching for.\u201d<\/p>\n

She explained that investigators had spent months trying to rebuild children\u2019s histories from incomplete records.
\nIf Mom\u2019s copies were accurate, they could potentially reconnect dozens of adults with their original identities and relatives.
\nMom didn\u2019t hesitate.
\n\u201cTake everything.\u201d
\nAgent Morris looked at her.
\n\u201cEverything?\u201d
\n\u201cEvery page. Every photograph. Whatever helps.\u201d<\/p>\n

For the first time since the tattoo had been discovered, my mother looked like herself again.
\nCalm.
\nFocused.
\nUseful.
\nThe secret that had frightened her for thirty years might now help other people recover pieces of their own past.<\/p>\n

Before Agent Morris left, Patricia returned.
\nShe stood awkwardly near the doorway.
\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d she said. \u201cI didn\u2019t mean to frighten either of you. When I saw the flower, I reacted. I spent time at Maplewood when I was younger. I\u2019ve thought about those children for decades.\u201d
\nMom gave her a tired smile.
\n\u201cIt\u2019s okay.\u201d
\nThen she glanced at me.
\n\u201cMaybe this needed to happen.\u201d
\nPatricia nodded.<\/p>\n

Then she reached into her pocket.
\nShe pulled out an old envelope.
\nThe edges were soft from age.
\nThe paper had yellowed.
\nShe handed it to me carefully.
\n\u201cThis came from one of the Maplewood archive boxes investigators recently brought in for review.\u201d
\nI stared at it.
\n\u201cIt was filed under your original name.\u201d
\nMy hands began trembling.
\nPatricia continued.
\n\u201cIt appears to have been placed there only days before your parents\u2019 accident.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked down.
\nWritten across the front in faded blue ink were the words:
\nTo be opened by Emma when she\u2019s ready.
\nI held the envelope without opening it.
\nSomewhere inside was a piece of a life I had never known existed.
\n\u201cYou don\u2019t have to read it now,\u201d Mom said softly.
\nI looked at her.
\n\u201cIt waited thirty years. It can wait another day.\u201d
\nI shook my head.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nI slid my finger beneath the flap.
\n\u201cIf I put it down now, I might become too afraid to pick it up again.\u201d<\/p>\n

Inside was one folded page.
\nThe handwriting was slightly rushed but easy to read.
\nI unfolded it.<\/p>\n

My dearest Emma,
\nIf you are reading this, then life did not turn out the way I hoped it would.
\nI wanted to be the person who told you how deeply you were loved from the very beginning.
\nBut if these words reached you instead of my voice, then I was not able to tell you myself.
\nThere is one thing I need you to know above everything else.
\nNone of what happened was your fault.
\nYou were the greatest joy of my life.
\nFrom the first moment I held you, I loved you more than I knew it was possible to love another person.
\nEvery future I imagined included you.
\nIf another family has raised you, I hope they loved you with everything they had.
\nAnd please never believe that being loved by someone else means you were loved any less by me.
\nLove does not disappear simply because life changes.
\nI hope you grew up kind.
\nI hope you laughed often.
\nI hope you found people who made you feel safe and a place that felt like home.
\nAnd I hope you always knew you deserved to be loved.
\nMost of all, I hope you never believed you were unwanted.
\nYou were wanted from the very beginning.
\nIf the people who raised you loved you well, hold onto them.
\nThey are your family.
\nNothing about learning where you came from should take away from the people who stood beside you while you grew.
\nMaybe it simply means you were lucky enough to be loved twice.
\nI wish I could have watched you grow.
\nI wish I could have been there for all the ordinary days and all the important ones.
\nAnd I wish I could have told you this myself, with your hand in mine.
\nWith all the love a mother can give,
\nYour first mom,
\nAlicia<\/p>\n

Alicia.
\nThat was my biological mother\u2019s name.
\nI whispered it silently.
\nA woman I couldn\u2019t remember had loved me enough to leave words behind in case she couldn\u2019t stay.
\nI read the letter again.
\nThen again.
\nBy the third time, tears were running silently down my face.<\/p>\n

I looked up at Helen.
\nMy mother.
\nShe was watching me carefully, giving me space.
\n\u201cShe sounds like she was a good person,\u201d I whispered.
\nMom nodded.
\n\u201cI\u2019m sure she was.\u201d
\nThen she reached for me.
\n\u201cAnd Emma, loving her doesn\u2019t take anything away from us.\u201d
\nI started crying harder.
\n\u201cThere\u2019s room for both,\u201d she continued. \u201cThere always has been.\u201d
\n\u201cI think someday I want to learn more about her.\u201d
\n\u201cOf course.\u201d
\n\u201cNot today.\u201d
\n\u201cWhenever you\u2019re ready.\u201d
\n\u201cI want to know where I came from.\u201d
\nMom nodded immediately.
\n\u201cAnd I\u2019ll help you.\u201d<\/p>\n

I carefully folded Alicia\u2019s letter and returned it to the envelope.
\nFor the first time in my life, I understood that family could mean more than one thing.
\nBlood.
\nChoice.
\nMemory.
\nPeople who leave.
\nPeople who stay.
\nAlicia had loved me during my first two years.
\nHelen had loved me through every year after.
\nI didn\u2019t need to choose which love was real.
\nBoth were.<\/p>\n

And somehow, the tiny tattoo my mother had spent thirty years hiding was about to help far more people than just me.
\nHer attic contained records that might finally give other former Maplewood children answers about their own lives.
\nNames.
\nBirthdays.
\nRelatives.
\nHistories that had been hidden from them.
\nThere was something almost beautiful about that.
\nThe secret Mom feared most might become the thing that restored the truth to dozens of other families.<\/p>\n

Then, in the middle of all the emotion, a thought occurred to me.
\nI looked at Mom.
\n\u201cYour surgery is still happening today.\u201d
\nShe blinked.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cYour knee.\u201d
\nI pointed toward her leg.
\n\u201cMom, you are not going to reveal a thirty-year family secret, meet federal investigators, uncover evidence from a closed children\u2019s home, and hand me a letter from my biological mother just to leave this hospital with the same bad knee you walked in with.\u201d<\/p>\n

She stared at me.
\nThen she laughed.
\nNot politely.
\nReally laughed.
\nThat short, surprised laugh I had heard my entire life.
\nI started laughing too.
\nThen we were both crying and laughing at the same time, sitting together on the hospital bed like the whole impossible morning had finally become too much to process any other way.<\/p>\n

Patricia smiled from the doorway.
\n\u201cShe does have a point.\u201d
\nThen she held up the IV supplies.
\n\u201cAnd I would really like to finish at least one thing I started today.\u201d
\nMom wiped her eyes.
\nThen she stretched out her left arm.
\nThe little blue flower faced upward.
\nFor the first time in thirty years, it wasn\u2019t something she was trying to hide.
\n\u201cAll right,\u201d she said.
\n\u201cLet\u2019s get this surgery over with before this hospital discovers another family secret.\u201d<\/p>\n

And as Patricia reached for her wrist, I looked at that tiny blue flower differently than I ever had before.
\nIt wasn\u2019t just a tattoo.
\nIt was a piece of my mother\u2019s past.
\nA doorway into mine.
\nAnd somehow, after thirty years of silence, it had finally brought both of us closer to the truth.<\/p>\n

THE END<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

For as long as I could remember, my mother had a tiny blue flower tattooed on the inside of her left wrist. **Part 1** And for as long as I … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":18809,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[15,16,6,5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-18808","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-family","category-inspiration","category-news","category-real-life-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18808","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=18808"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18808\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":18810,"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18808\/revisions\/18810"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/18809"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=18808"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=18808"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=18808"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}