There are many people who get married despite the fact that critics may doubt their ability to stay married for the long term. This often happens when we get married quickly or perhaps we are young and people don’t think we are yet responsible enough for the bond.
In 1995, there was a young couple who also were doubted but they ended up getting married and they stayed married for 25 years. They also were the first couple with Down syndrome in the UK to become husband and wife.
These days, we hear about people who have Down syndrome getting married on a regular basis. At that time, however, it was unheard of and it was the first time in the world that a couple with Down syndrome said I do.
Just like any other disability, however, those with Down syndrome have the ability to beat the odds, and certainly, that is what Tommy and Maryanne Pilling did. In fact, they are an inspiration to many who wonder if they have what it takes.
Maryanne was born in 1971. Her mother, Linda Martin, provided her with a loving atmosphere at home and she also had a sister who loved her as well. There were still times, however, when she struggled in life and she was even rejected by her father.
Since she was raised in a loving household, however, she grew up to be a very loving woman. It was easy to see in her lively personality.
Tommy was born in 1958 and was an only child. When he was 12 years old, he became an orphan and he grew up in a care home in Essex. He did have delayed development because of a lack of a support system, and he didn’t care much for his physical appearance.
When the two of them met in 1990, they were working in a kitchen in a training home for disabled individuals. He was 32 and she was 19 at the time.
It was easy to see how Maryanne felt about Tommy because she would absolutely light up when she spoke about him. They shared a number of common interests, such as music, cooking, movies, and doing craftwork.
Tommy also loved Elvis Pressley and the two of them would dance together on a regular basis. He would also let her know how much he loved her, and eventually, the family got accustomed to having him around.
18 months after they started dating, he proposed to her and asked her mother for permission to marry her daughter. The mother didn’t hesitate, she gave her blessings right away.
Other people, however, were not quite so positive about the idea of the two of them getting married. Some said that she wasn’t ready for it and some even asked about their sex life.
Despite the fact that they were criticized openly, they got married in 1995. 250 people came to the wedding, which was a fairytale for them.
They lived together with her family for seven years before moving into their own apartment next door. Her sister also moved along with them.
They have a very strong bond because he listens carefully when she speaks. There is never any type of hidden agenda and they love each other with their whole hearts.
Unfortunately, Tommy was hospitalized in 2020 after he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and then got COVID. Due to his declining health, he passed away. That was on January 1, 2021.
When the news was broken to her, she seemed to understand but still was a little confused about the situation. We are just glad that they had almost 30 years together, and they loved each other till the end.
Living Across from a Cemetery, I Saw a Baby Left by One of the Graves on Halloween Night
Now, those days were long gone, but I still cherished the traditions. Each year, I decorated my house with cobwebs, pumpkins, and spooky lights, and waited for the neighborhood kids to come trick-or-treating. It brought a little light into my otherwise quiet life.
Just two years ago, I had walked the same streets with my daughter, holding her tiny hand as we went door to door. It feels like a distant dream now, a beautiful memory that slipped away too soon. Losing her shattered me, and it broke my marriage with John as well. We couldn’t find a way to heal, and we drifted apart under the weight of our grief.
That night, after handing out candy for hours, I realized my bowl was empty. With a sigh, I hung a “No More Treats” sign on the door. A familiar ache settled in my chest—the kind that never fully goes away.
My house stood directly across from a cemetery, a place that unnerved most people. It didn’t bother me. The rent was cheap, and I’d never been one to believe in ghosts. I made myself a cup of cocoa and sat by the window, half-expecting to see some teenagers playing pranks among the gravestones.
But what I saw instead made my heart skip a beat. Near one of the graves was what looked like a baby car seat. I blinked, thinking it was a trick of the light, but the shape didn’t waver.
I grabbed my coat and hurried outside, the chilly October air biting at my skin. The cemetery was eerily still as I walked closer to the grave, every step filled with dread. When I finally reached it, my breath caught in my throat. There, in the car seat, was a tiny baby, fast asleep.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, kneeling down to pick her up. She was so small, completely unaware of the cold night air around her. “How did you get here?” I asked softly, knowing there would be no answer. I held her close and rushed back to the house.
Once inside, I laid her gently on the couch and noticed a note taped to her car seat. With trembling hands, I unfolded it. The note read, “Amanda, one and a half years old.”
That was all. No phone number, no explanation. Just a name. I searched the car seat for more information, but there was nothing. I looked down at Amanda, who stirred slightly, and felt my heart twist. What was I going to do with her?
Without thinking, I called the police. They listened as I explained the situation, but when they told me there were no reports of a missing child, frustration bubbled inside me. Still, they asked me to bring her in.
At the station, Amanda sat quietly in her car seat, her wide eyes gazing up at me as though she already trusted me. When the officers said she’d be placed in the care of social services, a sudden surge of protectiveness washed over me.
“Can she stay with me, at least for now?” I asked, my voice steady though my heart raced.
After hours of paperwork and background checks, they agreed. Amanda was coming home with me.
The days that followed were a blur of bottles, diapers, and sleepless nights. It had been so long since I’d taken care of a little one, but it all came back to me piece by piece. Every morning, I bought her toys, read her stories, and watched as her giggles filled the quiet spaces of my house. She became the light I didn’t know I needed.
It wasn’t always easy—some nights, her cries were impossible to soothe. But even in those difficult moments, I found joy. Amanda had filled the void in my heart, a place that had been empty for so long. The more time we spent together, the more attached I became.
One morning, as I fed Amanda breakfast, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find a police officer standing with an elderly woman by his side.
“Jessica,” the officer said gently. “This is Amanda’s grandmother, Carol. She’s here to take her back.”
My heart sank. Amanda had become so much a part of me that the thought of letting her go felt unbearable. But Carol was her family. I had no right to keep her.
Carol stepped forward, smiling warmly. “Hello, sweetie,” she said, reaching for Amanda. Every instinct in me screamed to hold on, but I slowly handed her over.
The moment Amanda left my arms, she started to cry. Her little hands reached for me, and it was like a dagger to my heart. Tears stung my eyes as I watched her go, but I knew I had no choice.
Before leaving, Carol handed me a basket and thanked me for taking care of Amanda. As soon as they were gone, I collapsed on the couch, tears flowing freely. It felt like I had lost my daughter all over again.
Later that night, I stared at the basket, too heartbroken to eat. Something nagged at me, though. I picked up the thank-you note Carol had left and read it again. The handwriting looked familiar.
My heart raced as I ran to my room and grabbed the note that had been left with Amanda’s car seat. Holding the two side by side, a chill ran down my spine. The handwriting was the same. Carol had abandoned Amanda at the cemetery.
Without hesitation, I grabbed my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in a long time.
“John, hi,” I said, my voice shaking.
“Jess?” he sounded surprised. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” I admitted, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on me. “I need your help.”
“I’ll be right there,” he said, his voice firm.
John arrived in under twenty minutes. I told him everything—about Amanda, the cemetery, and Carol’s deception. He listened quietly, and when I finished, he asked the question I’d been dreading.
“What do you want to do?”
“I want to take her back,” I said, my voice strong with conviction. “Amanda belongs with me.”
John nodded, and from that moment, we worked together. It was a long battle—endless meetings with lawyers and tense confrontations with Carol—but we didn’t give up. Weeks later, we stood in court, ready to fight for Amanda’s future.
Carol broke down on the stand, admitting that she had left Amanda at the cemetery because she could no longer care for her. The court revoked her custody, and I was granted temporary guardianship—with the possibility of adoption.
As I walked out of the courthouse, Amanda resting peacefully in my arms, I couldn’t stop smiling. She was mine, and I would do everything in my power to keep her safe and loved.
John walked beside us, his expression calm but content. “You’re going to be an amazing mom to her,” he said softly.
I smiled at him, my heart full of gratitude. “Thank you, John. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
As we walked away from the courthouse, I felt a renewed sense of hope. Halloween had always been special to me, but now it meant something even greater—it brought Amanda into my life.
And perhaps, just maybe, it was bringing John back into it, too.
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