After years of struggling with infertility, my husband and I finally adopted Sam, a sweet 3-year-old with ocean-blue eyes. But on his first night home, when my husband went to bathe him, he rushed out, pale and panicked, saying, “We have to return him!” His reaction seemed bizarre until I saw the unique birthmark on Sam’s foot.
The adoption journey had strained our marriage, but now, with Sam’s arrival, our lives began unraveling in ways I never anticipated.
Driving to the agency that day, I held the tiny blue sweater I’d bought for Sam, envisioning him in it. My husband, Mark, gripped the steering wheel, trying to stay calm. “We’ve waited so long for this,” I murmured, my excitement barely contained.
I had navigated the grueling adoption process mostly alone as Mark focused on his business. Though we initially wanted an infant, when I saw Sam’s picture—his ocean-blue eyes and shy smile—I felt an immediate bond. “Look at this little guy,” I showed Mark. He studied the photo, then smiled. “Those eyes are amazing.”
At the agency, we finally met Sam. Sitting quietly with his blocks, he handed me one, a small gesture that felt monumental.
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