Carrie and Craig Kosinski responded positively when a long-lost family friend requested them to watch her infant twins.
Carrie and Craig offered to temporarily assume custody of the adorable girls.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, and eventually the girls were a permanent part of the family.
For Carrie and Craig, having children had always been a dream, but they had no idea how their journey would turn out.
The births of Adalynn and Kenna occurred on February 28, 2014. The twins were born via emergency C-section, and at the age of three months, the Kosinkis were granted legal custody of the infant girls.
After a few years of parenting their adoptive twins, Carrie and Craig got a call from their original mother, who revealed that she was dealing with yet another tragic circumstance.
She was battling to make everything work while dealing with serious challenges in her life. She asked the couple if they would be open to adopting her two younger kids, Cece and J.J., twins who are two years old.
The younger twins were biologically related to Kenna and Adalynn.
From Union Grove, Wisconsin, Carrie and Craig had to consider their options carefully.
The couple had made numerous unsuccessful attempts to become pregnant before beginning the adoption process with Kenna and Adalynn.
They sought medical attention because they had no idea what was wrong for a while, and the doctor broke some devastating news.
The medical professional informed Carrie that due to her severe endometriosis, she was unable to conceive naturally. Therefore, having biological children was essentially out of the question; this is why they initially turned to adoption.
“It was a difficult decision. We were trying to get pregnant ourselves. But they were siblings so that was definitely was part of our consideration — we wanted to keep the siblings together,” Carrie told The Journal Times.
Carrie and Craig, however, put aside their private worries and informed the mother that they would be delighted to adopt the younger twins.
But not long after welcome Cece and J.J. into the family, Carrie started to feel off and knew she needed to see a doctor.
An ultrasound in September 2015 confirmed Carrie’s own pregnancy. Actually, there were two fetuses visible on the screen! In the past five years, she and Craig have welcomed three sets of twins.
”We were in shock, but super happy,” Carrie Kosinski explained.
Craig and Carrie understood their pregnancy was a gift from a higher power, despite their first overwhelm. All six of the children would be raised in a secure, loving home, the parents resolved.
But destiny would soon bring the family back, and their medical professionals could hardly believe what had transpired.
Unbelievably, the other two sets of twins’ birth dates, February 28 and March 1, were shared by biological twins Karraline and Clarissa.
”We were very shocked. We were like ‘oh my God we are going to have three sets of twins. What are we going to do with ourselves?’”, Carrie recalled.
The fact that all of Carrie and Craig’s kids have the same birthday is proof positive that this was meant to be, according to the delighted parents.
The Journal Times quotes Carrie as saying, “God certainly has a sense of humor.”
In week 25 of her pregnancy, Carrie used in vitro fertilization to give birth to Karraline and Clarissa. Sadly, their biological twins had to stay in neonatal intensive care for several months. Karraline and Clarissa, however, were in good health and shape when they were finally permitted to return home.
Three pairs of twins living under one roof is obviously expensive, but several members of the neighborhood have offered financial assistance.
Kind strangers from across the nation provided the family with financial assistance to cover their rising bills and expensive charges through fundraising websites like GoFundMe and AdoptTogether.
”I have to be very organized and keep to a schedule, or things get out of hand,” Carrie says.
Craig and Carrie believe that someone from above had a particular plan for their family because all six of their children were born on the same day: Cece and J.J. on February 28, 2013, Adalynn and Kenna on February 28, 2014, and Karraline and Clarissa on February 28, 2016.
”We believe that because God adopted us into His family that we were meant to adopt these children into our family,” Carrie said. ”It’s such a huge blessing to us. We love all our children the same. We wouldn’t want our lives to be any different.”
Today, this family is enjoying life, and to see all these beautiful kids grow up must be such a blessing for Carrie and Craig.
My wife had been marking tally counts on her hands — when I discovered what she was tracking, I turned pale
When I noticed my wife drawing strange tally marks on her hand, I shrugged it off as a quirky habit. But as those marks multiplied and her answers remained cryptic, I realized something much darker was lurking beneath the surface of our seemingly happy marriage.
“Married life is great, right?” I would say to my friends when they asked. And for the most part, it was. We’d only been married for a few months, and I was still getting used to being a husband. My wife, Sarah, was always so organized, so thoughtful. She had a way of making everything seem effortless.
But then, something changed. I started noticing a strange habit of hers. One day, she pulled a pen out of her purse and made a small tally mark on the back of her hand. I didn’t think much of it at first.
“Did you just mark your hand?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
She smiled and shrugged. “Just a reminder.”
“A reminder for what?” I laughed, thinking it was a joke. But she didn’t answer. She just changed the subject.
Over the next few weeks, she did it more and more. Some days, there’d be only one or two marks. Other days, five or more. Then there’d be days with nothing at all. It seemed random, but it bothered me. What was she keeping track of?
The more I noticed, the more I started to worry. It was like she was keeping a secret from me, and that secret was slowly eating away at our happiness.
One night, I couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“Sarah, what’s with the tally marks?” I asked as we were getting ready for bed. “You do it all the time now.”
She glanced at the marks on her hand, then looked at me with that same mysterious smile. “It helps me remember things, that’s all.”
“Remember what?” I pressed.
“It’s just… things,” she said, brushing me off like it was nothing. “Don’t worry about it.”
But I did worry. A lot. I started paying closer attention. She’d mark her hand after dinner. After we argued. After we watched a movie. There was no pattern I could see.
One evening, I counted the marks on her hand: seven. That night, I watched as she transferred them into a small notebook by her bedside table. She didn’t know I was watching.
I decided to check her notebook the next morning. I waited until she was in the shower, then flipped through the pages. Each page had rows and rows of tally marks. I counted them—68 in total.
I sat on the bed, staring at the notebook in my hands. What did this number mean? What was she counting?
I tried asking her again a few days later.
“Sarah, please tell me what those marks are for. It’s driving me crazy.”
She sighed, clearly annoyed. “I told you. It’s just something I do. It helps me remember.”
“That doesn’t make any sense!” I snapped. “What are you remembering? Are you keeping track of something? Someone?”
“Just drop it, okay?” she said, her voice sharp. She looked at me, her eyes pleading. “Please, just let it go.”
But I couldn’t let it go. The marks started to feel like a wall between us. Every time I saw her make a new one, it was like she was putting up another brick, shutting me out.
I became obsessed with the number 68. What was so important about it? I noticed I was being more careful around her, almost like I was afraid to give her a reason to add another mark. But then the marks would still appear, no matter what I did.
One night, after another tense conversation, I watched her add four new marks to her hand. I needed to know what was happening. I needed to figure this out before it drove me mad. But I had no idea how to get the truth out of her. And that scared me more than anything.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that our entire marriage was on the line, and I was helpless to stop whatever was happening between us. I left for several days to see if it changed anything. Well, the tally count has increased to 78 by the time I returned.
The obsession with Sarah’s tally marks was eating me alive. I needed a break from it, but everywhere I looked, I saw her hand with those little black lines, like they were taunting me. So, when Sarah suggested we visit her mother, I thought it would be a good distraction.
Her mother, Diane, and her fifth husband, Jake, lived in a cozy house in the suburbs. It was a typical Saturday afternoon visit: tea, cookies, and small talk. Sarah and her mom were in the kitchen, chatting and laughing. I excused myself to use the bathroom.
As I passed by the guest bedroom, something caught my eye. There, on the nightstand, was a notebook. It looked just like the one Sarah kept by her bed. I hesitated, but curiosity got the better of me. I stepped inside, glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching.
I opened the notebook, my hands trembling. Inside, there were pages filled with tally marks, just like Sarah’s. But there was more. Next to the marks were labels: “interrupting,” “raising voice,” “forgetting to call.” Each tally had a label, like it was keeping track of mistakes.
“What the hell is this?” I muttered under my breath.
I felt a chill run down my spine. Was this some kind of family tradition? Was Sarah’s mom counting her own mistakes? Were they both holding themselves to these impossible standards?
I closed the notebook and returned to the living room, trying to act normal, but my mind was spinning. Sarah noticed my unease.
“You okay?” she asked, concern in her eyes.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied. “Just thinking about work.”
We stayed for another hour, but I was barely present. My thoughts kept drifting back to that.
On the drive home, I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“Sarah, I need to ask you something,” I said, gripping the steering wheel.
She looked at me, puzzled. “What’s up?”
“I saw your mom’s notebook today. It looked a lot like yours. Is this something you both do? Are you counting your mistakes? You don’t have to be perfect, you know. You don’t need to keep track of every little thing.”
There was a moment of silence, then she let out a bitter laugh.
“You think I’m counting my mistakes?”
“Well, yeah,” I said, relieved she was finally opening up. “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. It’s okay to mess up sometimes.”
She shook her head, staring out the window. “I’m not counting my mistakes, Jack. I’m counting yours.”
The words hit me like a punch in the gut. “What?”
“Every time you break one of your vows, I make a mark,” she said quietly. “When you interrupt me, when you don’t listen, when you say you’ll do something and don’t. I’ve been keeping track since our wedding.”
On our wedding day, I promised Sarah the world in my vows. I vowed never to lie, to always listen without interrupting, and to be there every time she needed me, no matter what. It was a long list of grand, heartfelt promises that sounded perfect in the moment, but looking back, they were almost impossible to keep.
I felt the blood drain from my face. “You’re counting my mistakes? Why?”
“Because I want to know when I’ve had enough,” she said, her voice breaking. “When you reach 1,000 marks, I’m leaving.”
I pulled the car over, my heart pounding. “You’re going to leave me? For breaking some stupid promises?”
“They’re not stupid promises,” she snapped. “They’re our wedding vows, Jack. You made them to me, and you’ve broken every single one.”
I stared at her, stunned. How had we gotten here? How had I missed this? I’d thought she was being hard on herself, but I was the one who’d been careless, dismissive. I wanted to be angry, but I couldn’t. I was too shocked, too hurt.
When we got home, I couldn’t sleep. I called Diane, desperate for answers.
“Sarah told me what she’s doing,” I said. “Why didn’t you stop her?”
Diane sighed. “I did the same thing with my past husbands. I thought it would help, but it just drove us apart. It ruined my marriages.”
“Then why let her—”
“I tried to tell her,” she interrupted gently. “But she needs to see it for herself. I count good days now, Jack. Good things my husband does. It changed everything.”
I hung up, feeling more lost than ever. I could only hope that my mother-in-law’s words fell on fertile ground.
That evening, Sarah came home with tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around me. “I didn’t realize how much this was hurting us.”
I held her close, feeling a mix of relief and hope. “Let’s forget the tally marks,” I said softly. “Let’s start fresh.”
The next day, I bought a new notebook—one for us to fill with good memories and happy moments. We made our first entry that night, writing about a quiet dinner we shared, laughing and talking like we hadn’t in months.
As we moved forward, the notebook became a symbol of our promise to focus on the positives and grow together. The tally marks were gone, replaced by stories of joy, love, and gratitude. We were finally on the same page, and it felt like the beginning of something beautiful.
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