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.
I SPENT MY PROM DRESS MONEY TO HELP A HOMELESS MAN — THE NEXT DAY, HE SHOWED UP AT PROM WITH A LUXURY GIFT
The worn vinyl of the bus seat creaked beneath me as I clutched the envelope, its crisp edges softened by the warmth of my hand. Inside, the money my mom and grandma had painstakingly saved—my prom dress fund. The pink, shimmering gown that would transform me, even for one night, into the princess I’d always dreamed of being.
The bus rattled along, the familiar rhythm a comforting backdrop to my anticipation. At the next stop, the doors hissed open, and two figures boarded, their presence immediately shifting the atmosphere. They weren’t passengers; they were enforcers, their uniforms a stark contrast to the everyday clothes of the other riders.
Their attention fell upon an elderly man, his clothes tattered and his face etched with worry. He sat hunched in a corner seat, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. The enforcers approached him, their voices sharp and demanding.
“Ticket, sir,” one of them barked.
The man’s hands trembled as he fumbled in his pockets, his eyes wide with a desperate plea. “Please, I… I don’t have one. I’m trying to get to my daughter. She’s sick, and I have to take her to the hospital. Please, I’m begging you.”
The enforcers were unmoved. “Fine,” one of them stated, his voice flat. “You’ll have to pay a fine.”
The man’s shoulders slumped. The despair in his eyes was a physical weight, a crushing burden that filled the bus. I couldn’t bear it. The thought of my own mother, sick and helpless, flashed through my mind. What if she needed help, and no one cared?
Without a second thought, I stood up, my heart pounding in my chest. I took a deep breath, the crisp air filling my lungs with a sudden rush of determination. “I’ll pay his fine!” I declared, extending the envelope towards the enforcers.
The bus fell silent. The enforcers exchanged surprised glances, then looked at me, then at the man. I didn’t waver. I knew, deep down, that this was the right thing to do. Some things were more important than a dress, even a dream dress.
The enforcers, after a moment of hesitation, accepted the money. The elderly man’s eyes filled with tears, and he rushed towards me, his voice choked with gratitude. “Thank you, thank you, child. You’ve saved my daughter’s life.”
He thanked me over and over, his voice a trembling whisper, before hurrying off the bus, his urgency palpable. I watched him go, a strange mix of relief and a tiny pang of sadness swirling within me.
The next day, prom was a whirlwind of glitter and laughter. I wore a simple dress borrowed from a friend, feeling a little out of place but strangely content. I’d told my mom and grandma what happened, and they’d hugged me, their eyes filled with pride.
As the music swelled, and couples swayed on the dance floor, a commotion erupted near the entrance. I turned to see what was happening, and my breath caught in my throat.
Standing there, amidst the sea of shimmering gowns and tailored suits, was the elderly man from the bus, his face beaming. Beside him stood a young woman, her face pale but her eyes bright. And in his hands, he held a large, velvet-wrapped box.
He walked towards me, his steps slow but steady. “My dear child,” he said, his voice ringing with warmth. “I wanted to thank you properly. You saved my daughter, and I can never repay you. But I hope this small token will express my gratitude.”
He presented the box to me. I opened it, my fingers trembling. Inside, nestled on a bed of satin, was a dress. Not just any dress, but a masterpiece. It was pink, shimmering, and exquisitely crafted. It was the dress of my dreams, even more beautiful than I had imagined.
“My daughter,” the man explained, his eyes filled with tears, “she’s a seamstress. She made this for you, with all her heart.”
I was speechless, tears welling up in my eyes. The dress was perfect, a symbol of the kindness I had shown and the kindness I had received in return. That night, I didn’t just feel like a princess. I felt like a hero, and I knew that some things, some moments, were worth more than all the dresses in the world.
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