TRUE-LIFE The doorbell rang and I rushed to answer it.
It was December 2013, my 40th birthday, and I knew my two daughters, Veronika, then 20, and Sofia, 16, wouldn’t have forgotten.
Only, there was no one there, just a basket sitting on the doorstep.
I crouched down, pulled the blanket back and gasped.
The cutest face looked back at me. A baby!
And there was a card that read, I’m Isabella, will you take care of me?
The newborn had tiny curled up fingers, rosebud lips and plump cheeks.
She was gorgeous.
But she wasn’t a real baby.
She was a doll.
I’d heard of these baby dolls, called reborns, before, knew they were handmade from vinyl to look as close to the real thing as possible.
I’d only…