Then came his sixth birthday, a small celebration of three around a dinosaur-topped cake. As Jacob and I finished singing “Happy Birthday,” Bobby looked up, steady and calm, and said, “My parents are alive.” Those words hit me like a tidal wave. Had we believed a lie all along?
Desperate for answers, we confronted the foster coordinator, who confessed the truth: Bobby’s birth parents were very much alive, wealthy, and unwilling to raise a child with health issues. They’d paid to have the abandonment story fabricated. Shock and anger coursed through me. How could anyone discard their own child like that?
When we told Bobby, he responded without hesitation: “I want to see them.” Unease gnawed at me, but I understood he needed closure. Clutching each other’s hands, we drove to the address we’d been given—a grand mansion behind towering gates. Inside, a polished couple greeted us with tense smiles that vanished when they saw Bobby.
“This is your son,” Jacob said quietly. Bobby stepped forward, voice trembling slightly: “Are you my mommy and daddy?”
They fumbled for excuses, claiming someone else could provide a better life, that they were “unequipped.” The words hung hollow in the opulent air. Bobby’s eyes filled with sadness beyond his years.
“You didn’t even try,” he said softly. Then he turned back to me, his decision made. “Mommy, I don’t like them. I want to go home with you and Daddy.”
Tears blurred my vision as I knelt down, pulling him into my arms. “You are home with us, Bobby. Always.”
We left hand-in-hand, feeling an unexpected calm. At that moment, I realized Bobby was ours in every way that mattered. We weren’t just his adoptive parents—we were truly his family.
In the months that followed, Bobby’s trust in us deepened. He laughed more freely, shared his dreams, and, best of all, called us “Mommy” and “Daddy” with genuine comfort and love. We discovered what we had always longed for wasn’t a genetic connection, but the bond formed by unwavering devotion.
Bobby taught us that love is not defined by biology—it’s defined by choice, compassion, and presence. By loving him without reservation, we became the parents we were meant to be, and he became the child he was always destined to have. Together, we forged a family that transcended expectations, grounded firmly in the truth that we choose one another, and that is more than enough.