{"id":3121,"date":"2026-01-29T15:30:13","date_gmt":"2026-01-29T15:30:13","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/angel.weloveanimal.info\/?p=3121"},"modified":"2026-01-29T15:42:00","modified_gmt":"2026-01-29T15:42:00","slug":"adopte-gemelos-con-discapacidades-despues-de-encontrarlos-en-la-calle-doce-anos-despues-casi-se-me-cae-el-telefono-cuando-me-entere-de-lo-que-hacian","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/angel.weloveanimal.info\/?p=3121","title":{"rendered":"Adopt\u00e9 gemelos con discapacidades despu\u00e9s de encontrarlos en la calle. Doce a\u00f1os despu\u00e9s, casi se me cae el tel\u00e9fono cuando me enter\u00e9 de lo que hac\u00edan."},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I’m 41, and 12 years ago, my life flipped on a random Tuesday at 5 a.m.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I work sanitation. I drive one of those big trash trucks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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At home, my husband Steven was recovering from surgery.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

That morning was bone-cold. The kind of cold that bites your cheeks and makes your eyes water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At home, my husband Steven was recovering from surgery. I’d changed his bandages, fed him, kissed his forehead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Text me if you need anything,” I told him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He tried to grin. “Go save the city from banana peels, Abbie.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Life was simple then. Tiring, but simple. Me, Steven, our tiny house, our bills.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

That’s when I saw the stroller.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

No kids. Just a quiet ache where we wished they were.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I turned onto one of my usual streets, humming along to the radio.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That’s when I saw the stroller.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was just sitting there. In the middle of the sidewalk. Not by a house, not near a car. Just\u2026 abandoned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My stomach dropped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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When I got closer, my heart started pounding.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

I slammed the truck into park and turned on my hazards.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I got closer, my heart started pounding.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Two tiny babies. Twin girls. Maybe six months old. Curled up under mismatched blankets, cheeks pink from the cold.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They were breathing. I could see little puffs of their breath in the air.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked up and down the street.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“Where’s your mom?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

No parent. No one shouting. No door swinging open.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Hey, sweethearts,” I whispered. “Where’s your mom?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One of them opened her eyes and looked right at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I checked the diaper bag. Half a can of formula. A couple of diapers. No note. No ID. Nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My hands started to shake.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“Police and CPS are on the way.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

I called 911.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Hi, I’m on my trash route,” I said, voice trembling. “There’s a stroller with two babies. They’re alone. It’s freezing.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The dispatcher’s whole tone changed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Stay with them,” she said. “Police and CPS are on the way. Are they breathing?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Yes,” I said. “But they’re so small. I don’t know how long they’ve been here.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“You’re not alone anymore.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

She told me to move them out of the wind. I pushed the stroller next to a brick wall and then started knocking on doors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nothing. Lights on. Curtains twitching. No one willing to open.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So I sat on the curb next to the stroller.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I pulled my knees up and just\u2026 talked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “You’re not alone anymore. I’m here. I won’t leave you.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“Where are they going?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

They stared at me with these huge dark eyes, like they were studying me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Police showed up. Then a CPS worker in a beige coat with a clipboard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She checked them over and asked me what happened. I gave my statement, still numb.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When she lifted one baby on each hip and carried them to her car, my chest literally hurt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Where are they going?” I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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The stroller sat empty on the sidewalk.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

“To a temporary foster home,” she said. “We’ll try to find family. I promise they’ll be safe tonight.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The door shut. The car drove away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The stroller sat empty on the sidewalk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stood there, my breath fogging the air, and felt something in me crack open.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

All day, I kept seeing their faces.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“I can’t stop thinking about them.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That night, I pushed my dinner around on my plate until Steven put his fork down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Okay,” he said. “What happened? You’ve been somewhere else all night.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I told him everything. The stroller. The cold. The babies. Watching them leave with CPS.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I can’t stop thinking about them,” I said, voice shaking. “They’re just\u2026 out there. What if no one takes them? What if they get split up?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He went quiet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“What if we tried to foster them?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Abbie,” he said finally, “we’ve always talked about kids.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I laughed a little. “Yeah. Then we talk about money and stop real fast.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“True,” he said. “But\u2026 what if we tried to foster them? At least ask.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stared at him. “They’re two babies, Steven. Twins. We’re barely keeping up now.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“You already love them.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

He reached across the table and took my hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“You already love them,” he said. “I can see it. Let’s at least try.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That night, we cried and talked and planned and panicked in equal parts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next day, I called CPS.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We started the process. Home visits. Questions about our marriage. Our income. Our childhoods. Our trauma. Our fridge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A week later, the same social worker sat on our beat-up couch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“They’ll need early intervention.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“There’s something you need to know about the twins,” she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My stomach clenched. Steven reached for my hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“What is it?” I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“They’re deaf,” she said gently. “Profoundly deaf. They’ll need early intervention. Sign language. Specialized support. A lot of families decline when they hear that.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“I don’t care.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

I looked at Steven.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He didn’t even blink.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I turned back to her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I don’t care if they’re deaf,” I said. “I care that someone left them on a sidewalk. We’ll learn whatever we need.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Steven nodded. “We still want them,” he said. “If you’ll let us.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The social worker’s shoulders relaxed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Okay,” she said softly. “Then let’s move forward.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Those first months were chaos.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They brought them a week later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Two car seats. Two diaper bags. Two sets of wide, curious eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“We’re calling them Hannah and Diana,” I told the worker, my hands shaking as I signed the names the best I could.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Get used to no sleep,” she said with a tired smile. “And lots of paperwork.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Those first months were chaos.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

They slept through things that would wake any other kid.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Two babies. No hearing. No shared language yet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They didn’t respond to loud noises. They slept through things that would wake any other kid.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But they reacted to lights. To movement. To touch. To facial expressions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Steven and I took ASL classes at the community center.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

I practiced in the bathroom mirror before work.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

We watched videos online at 1 a.m., rewinding the same signs over and over.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Milk. More. Sleep. Mom. Dad.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I practiced in the bathroom mirror before work, my fingers stiff and clumsy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sometimes I messed up, and Steven would sign, “You just asked the baby for a potato.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Money was tight.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Hannah was observant, always watching people’s faces. Diana was wild energy, grabbing, kicking, always moving.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Money was tight. I picked up extra shifts. Steven did part-time work from home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We sold some stuff. We bought secondhand baby clothes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We were exhausted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And I had never been so happy in my life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

We celebrated their first birthday with cupcakes and way too many photos.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

The first time they signed “Mom” and “Dad,” I nearly passed out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hannah tapped her chin and pointed at me, grinning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Diana copied her, signing sloppily but so proud.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“They know,” Steven signed to me, eyes wet. “They know we’re theirs.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We celebrated their first birthday with cupcakes and way too many photos.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“What’s wrong with them?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

People stared when we signed in public.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One woman in a grocery store watched us for a while, then asked, “What’s wrong with them?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I straightened up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Nothing,” I said. “They’re deaf, not broken.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Later, I signed that story to the girls when they were old enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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We fought for interpreters at school.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

They laughed so hard they almost fell off the couch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Years moved fast.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We fought for interpreters at school. Fought for services. Fought for people to take them seriously.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hannah fell in love with drawing. She designed dresses, hoodies, whole outfits.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Diana loved building. Blocks, Legos, cardboard, broken electronics from thrift stores.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“We’re doing a contest at school.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

They signed a mile a minute. They had private signs only they understood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sometimes they’d just looked at each other and burst into silent laughter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By 12, they were their own little storm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They came home one day with crumpled papers flying out of their backpacks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“We’re doing a contest at school,” Hannah signed, dropping drawings on the table. “Design clothes for kids with disabilities.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“We won’t win, but it’s cool.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

“We’re a team,” Diana added. “Her art. My brain.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They showed us hoodies with room for hearing devices. Pants with side zippers. Tags placed so they wouldn’t itch. Bright, fun designs that didn’t scream “special needs.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“We won’t win,” Hannah signed, shrugging. “But it’s cool.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“No matter what happens, I’m proud of you.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

They turned in their project.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Life went on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

One afternoon, while I was cooking, my phone rang.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Trash routes. Bills. Homework. Fights over chores. ASL flying across the dinner table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then one afternoon, while I was cooking, my phone rang.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Unknown number.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I almost ignored it, but something made me pick up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“We’re a children’s clothing company.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

“Hello?” I said, one hand still on the spoon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Hi, is this Mrs. Lester?” a woman asked. Warm, professional voice. “This is Bethany from BrightSteps.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My brain flipped through mental files. Nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Uh, yes,” I said. “That’s me. What’s BrightSteps?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“We’re a children’s clothing company,” she said. “We partnered with your daughters’ school on a design challenge.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“Is\u2026 something wrong?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

My heart skipped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Hannah and Diana,” she added. “They submitted a project together.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Yes,” I said slowly. “They did. Is\u2026 something wrong?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She laughed softly. “Quite the opposite. Their designs were outstanding. Our entire team was impressed.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“They were just doing a school project.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I sat down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“They\u2026” I said. “They were just doing a school project.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Well,” she said, “we’d like to turn that project into a real collaboration. We want to develop a line with them. Adaptive clothing based on their ideas.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My mouth went dry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“We’re offering a paid collaboration.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

“A real\u2026 line?” I repeated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Yes,” she said. “We’re offering a paid collaboration. There would be a design fee and projected royalties. Our current estimate, over the term, is around $530,000.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I almost dropped the phone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Did you say 530,000?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“That’s the projected value.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

“Yes, ma’am,” she said. “Of course, it depends on final sales, but that’s the projected value.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For a second, all I could hear was my own heartbeat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“They\u2026 my girls did that?” I whispered. “Hannah and Diana?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Yes,” she said. “You’ve raised very talented young women. We’d love to set up a meeting\u2014with interpreters, of course\u2014so they’re fully involved.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“We’ll look it over.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

I swallowed hard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Please email me everything,” I said. “We’ll look it over.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We hung up. I just sat there, staring at nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Steven walked in and froze.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Abbie?” he said. “You look like you saw a ghost.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“Closer to an angel.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I laughed, half crying. “Closer to an angel,” I said. “Or two.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“What happened?” he asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“That design contest?” I said. “A company wants to work with them. A real contract. Real money. Like\u2026 life-changing money.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I signed the number.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His jaw dropped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“You’re joking,” he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“What’s wrong with your face?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I wish I were,” I said. “Our girls. The ones someone left in a stroller. They did this.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He pulled me into a hug, both of us laughing and crying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The back door slammed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hannah and Diana stormed in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“We’re hungry,” Diana signed. “Feed us.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“What’s wrong with your face?” Hannah signed at me. “You’ve been crying.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“Are we in trouble?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Sit,” I signed. “Both of you.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They sat, glancing at each other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I took a breath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“Your school sent your designs to a real clothing company. BrightSteps. They called.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Their eyes widened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Are we in trouble?” Hannah signed. “Did we break the rules?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“You’re serious?”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“No,” I signed. “They loved your work. They want to make real clothes from your ideas. And they want to pay you.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“How much?” Diana signed, squinting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I signed the number.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then they both signed at once: “WHAT?!”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“You’re serious?” Hannah signed, hands shaking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“Because you thought about kids like you.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Yes,” I signed. “Meetings. Lawyers. Interpreters. The whole thing. Because you thought about kids like you.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Diana’s eyes filled with tears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“We just wanted shirts that don’t pull on hearing aids. Pants that are easier to put on. Stuff that makes life less annoying.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

“And that’s everything,” I signed back. “You used your experiences to help other kids. That’s huge.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“Thank you for taking us in.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They launched at me, almost knocking me off the chair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I love you,” Hannah signed. “Thank you for learning our language.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Thank you for taking us in,” Diana jumped in. “For not saying we were too much.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I pulled back and wiped my face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“I promised myself I wouldn’t leave you.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

“I found you in a stroller on a cold sidewalk,” I signed. “I promised myself I wouldn’t leave you. I meant it. Deaf, hearing, rich, broke\u2014I’m your mom.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They both cried harder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We spent that night at the table, going through emails, writing questions, texting a lawyer a friend recommended.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Maybe I could finally quit the brutal early shift.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

We talked about saving. College. Giving some back to their school’s deaf program. Maybe fixing up the house. Maybe I could finally quit the brutal early shift.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Later, when everyone was asleep, I sat alone in the dark, looking at their old baby photos on my phone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Two tiny girls, abandoned in the cold.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Those girls saved me right back.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Two strong teens, designing a better world for kids like them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

People sometimes tell me, “You saved them.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They have no idea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Those girls saved me right back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What do you think happens next for these characters? Share your thoughts in the Facebook comments.<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Advertisement I’m 41, and 12 years ago, my life flipped on a random Tuesday at 5 a.m. I work sanitation. I drive one of those […]<\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3126,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3121","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorised"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/angel.weloveanimal.info\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3121","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/angel.weloveanimal.info\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/angel.weloveanimal.info\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/angel.weloveanimal.info\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/angel.weloveanimal.info\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3121"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/angel.weloveanimal.info\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3121\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3134,"href":"https:\/\/angel.weloveanimal.info\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3121\/revisions\/3134"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/angel.weloveanimal.info\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/3126"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/angel.weloveanimal.info\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3121"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/angel.weloveanimal.info\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3121"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/angel.weloveanimal.info\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3121"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}