The caseworker told us Bobby’s parents had died. For a year, we believed her. Then on his sixth birthday, our silent adopted son spoke seven words that shattered that story: “The grownups lied. My parents are alive.”
Confronting the foster home revealed an ugly truth – Bobby’s wealthy parents had paid to fabricate his history when they abandoned their “imperfect” child. Driving him to meet them was one of the hardest things we’ve ever done. Watching their discomfort as they faced the son they’d discarded, I realized some people don’t deserve the title of parent.
When Bobby turned his back on them and called us “Mommy” and “Daddy” for the first time, our hearts healed all the broken pieces of our infertility journey. His courage in choosing us taught him more about real love than any biology ever could.
