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Part Two: Kitti’s Story 

When the judge moved up the final hearing, I was angry. I was ready to fight. These were my babies. I had every intention of doing whatever I could to bring them home.

But then I met her—Winn.

When I saw how my twins were thriving in her care, I had to face a painful truth: I wasn’t ready. I wanted to be. But I was still trapped in a life with no way out. I knew it would take me years to undo the damage, and even then… I couldn’t go back in time.

That day, I saw the bond she had with them—the way she knew their every need, the way they looked at her like they belonged to her. Because they did. She was their mother in all the ways that mattered.

I cried after that meeting. And then I wrote her a message that poured out of me like a flood. I told her the truth—that she had earned the title “Mama,” and I wouldn’t fight to take that away just because I was their biological mom. I wouldn’t be selfish. They deserved better than that. They deserved her.

But what I didn’t know then, what I couldn’t have imagined, was that she would choose me too.

She kept writing to me. She kept sending photos, even when I didn’t respond. She never gave up. And when I reached out, desperate and pregnant again, asking for help, she came without hesitation.

She showed up for me when I had nothing left.

She was there the day Winnie, her namesake, was born—on my birthday. And then she did something that still makes me cry: she brought Winnie home and cared for her while I went to rehab. She gave me space to heal. To learn. To begin again.

We worked hard, together. Family Recovery Court gave me tools. Winn gave me love. Trust. Safety. She didn’t have to, but she did.

And slowly, I became the mother I knew I could be.

Now I see my children every week. I tuck my daughter in bed. I hear my twins call me “Mama Kitti.” I laugh with my daughter’s godmother—my friend, my sister in this journey—and we marvel at what God has done.

People say I’m lucky to have her. And I am. But we are lucky to have each other.

Because redemption doesn’t just change a person. It changes everyone it touches.

Shared in collaboration with The Archibald Project.