When we adopted Bobby, a silent five-year-old, we hoped love would heal his past. But on his sixth birthday, he shattered our world with five words: “My parents are alive.” What followed revealed a truth we never expected.
After years of struggling with infertility, my husband Jacob and I decided to adopt. We met Bobby at a foster home, where he sat quietly in a corner. Despite his silence, we knew he was meant to be ours.
At home, Bobby stayed silent for months. Then, on his birthday, he finally spoke, revealing that his birth parents weren’t dead, as we had been told—they had abandoned him because of his health issues.
We confronted the foster caretaker, who admitted the truth. Despite our fears, we took Bobby to meet his birth parents. When he asked, “Are you my mommy and daddy?” their guilt was palpable, but Bobby chose to stay with us, rejecting them without hesitation.
Walking away, I realized that family isn’t about blood—it’s about love. Bobby thrived with us, and when he called us “Mommy” and “Daddy,” I knew our family was complete.
