We are all born unique and beautiful, each one of us an individual expression of diversity. One of the most incredible aspects of being human is that no two people are exactly the same. Over time, society has made great strides in embracing and celebrating these differences.
Nicole Lucas Hall, a devoted mother, is raising her two children, Asher and Winry, with a mission to challenge the idea that imperfections define us. Nicole wants to reinforce the belief that her daughter Winry, who was born with a rare birthmark, is beautiful in her own right.
Winry was born with a condition known as congenital melanocytic nevi (CMN), an uncommon birthmark that covers about a quarter of her face. According to Good Morning America, Winry’s distinct appearance has made her stand out since her birth in February 2021, though her parents embrace and celebrate her uniqueness.
Determined Mom Sets Out to Show Her Child She’s Beautiful, Despite a Unique Birthmark
byBrowse Feed–October 14, 20240
We are all born unique and beautiful, each one of us an individual expression of diversity. One of the most incredible aspects of being human is that no two people are exactly the same. Over time, society has made great strides in embracing and celebrating these differences.
Nicole Lucas Hall, a devoted mother, is raising her two children, Asher and Winry, with a mission to challenge the idea that imperfections define us. Nicole wants to reinforce the belief that her daughter Winry, who was born with a rare birthmark, is beautiful in her own right.
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Winry was born with a condition known as congenital melanocytic nevi (CMN), an uncommon birthmark that covers about a quarter of her face. According to Good Morning America, Winry’s distinct appearance has made her stand out since her birth in February 2021, though her parents embrace and celebrate her uniqueness.
Nicole, a teacher, recalls being initially shocked when the nurses handed her Winry after delivery. Her pregnancy had been normal, so she wasn’t expecting anything unusual. “I had a typical pregnancy,” Nicole wrote on her blog. “After some early morning sickness, I felt great until the last month when fatigue kicked in.”
The medical team was the first to notice Winry’s CMN, but they offered congratulations for the easy birth and reassured Nicole that her baby’s vital signs were fine.
At first, Nicole mistook the large mark on Winry’s head for a bruise. “My husband and I quickly realized it wasn’t a bruise,” she said. “I thought it looked like a mole.” Concerned but unsure what to ask, Nicole held her baby close and showered her with love.
CMN can appear as dark or light brown patches on various parts of the body, and its size can vary, according to the National Organization for Rare Disorders.
Now, Nicole and her partner are on a mission to show the world that differences should be celebrated, not hidden.
“I like sharing because, for many, this is the first time they’ve seen a birthmark like hers,” Nicole said. “Parents can have meaningful conversations with their children about how kids can look different, or they may see their own child reflected in Winry.”
Winry’s parents take extra care of her skin, as her birthmark may increase her risk of melanoma, a form of skin cancer. “Our main concern is her health,” Nicole explained. “We make sure to use sunscreen and keep her protected with hats.”
Beyond her birthmark, Winry is a joyful and spirited little girl who radiates happiness. “She’s the happiest baby I’ve ever seen,” Nicole said. “She’s always laughing and yelling, and she’s already showing signs of having quite the personality!”
Nicole hopes that by sharing Winry’s story, more people will embrace differences rather than mock or belittle them.
To her, Winry is not just a child with a unique appearance—she’s a truly special little girl with a beautiful spirit.
MY DAD JUST WOKE UP FROM A COMA, SAYING HE HEARD EVERYTHING IN THE HOSPITAL ROOM & EXPOSING MY WFE.
The sterile scent of the hospital room hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the joyous atmosphere that had filled it moments before. My father, his face pale but his eyes surprisingly alert, looked at us, a mixture of exhaustion and a strange intensity in his gaze.
“Dad,” I began, my voice trembling with emotion, “how was it? Did you have any dreams? Any… anything?”
He looked at each of us in turn, his gaze lingering on my wife, Leah, who had gone deathly pale. “Not only dreams, son,” he rasped, his voice weak but surprisingly clear. “I heard EVERYTHING that happened in this room.”
A collective gasp escaped from the assembled family members. My mother, tears streaming down her face, reached for his hand.
“Dad,” I said, my voice strained, “what do you mean?”
He turned his gaze back to me, his expression serious. “There’s something you need to know about your wife,” he said, his voice gaining strength. “Something you need to understand.”
Leah, her face ashen, tried to interject, but my father raised a frail hand to silence her. “She’s nothing at all like what we think she is,” he continued, his voice unwavering. “Once, she came here—without you.”
The room fell silent. The only sound was the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. Leah’s eyes, wide with fear, darted around the room.
“She came alone,” my father continued, his voice gaining strength. “She cried, she talked about… about how she was only with me for the money. She said she was relieved when I got into the accident. Said she was finally free.”
The words hung heavy in the air, each one a hammer blow to my heart. I looked at Leah, her face a mask of denial and fear. Her eyes, once filled with love and concern, now held a cold, calculating glint.
“Dad,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, “are you sure? Maybe you misheard?”
He shook his head slowly. “I heard every word, son. Every cruel word.”
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. The woman I loved, the woman I had vowed to cherish, was a stranger. A stranger who had pretended to love me, who had plotted my father’s demise.
Anger, cold and furious, surged through me. I wanted to scream, to lash out, to tear her apart. But instead, I felt a deep, suffocating sadness. The woman I had loved, the woman who had filled my life with joy, had been a lie.
Leah, her face contorted in a mixture of fear and defiance, tried to speak, but no words came out. She turned and fled from the room, her footsteps echoing down the hospital corridor.
I turned to my father, his gaze filled with a mixture of pity and regret. “I’m so sorry, son,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I wish I could have warned you sooner.”
As I watched Leah disappear from view, I knew my life would never be the same. The trust I had placed in her, the love I had cherished, had shattered into a thousand pieces. The man who had awakened from a coma had not only saved my life but had also saved me from a lifetime of heartbreak.
The road ahead was uncertain, filled with pain and disillusionment. But I knew, deep down, that I would rebuild. I would learn to trust again, to love again. But this time, I would be wiser, more cautious. I would never again allow myself to be blinded by love, to let my guard down, to let someone else define my happiness.
The experience had left an indelible mark on me, a constant reminder of the fragility of trust, the importance of vigilance, and the enduring power of truth.
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