When we adopted Bobby, a silent five-year-old boy, we thought time and love would heal his pain. But on his sixth birthday, he shattered our lives with five words, ‘My parents are alive.’ What happened next revealed truths we didn’t expect.
I always thought becoming a mother would be natural and easy. But life had other plans.
When Bobby said those words, it wasn’t just his first sentence. It was the beginning of a journey that would test our love, our patience, and everything we thought about family.
I used to think life was perfect. I had a loving husband, a cosy home and a steady job that allowed me to pursue my hobbies.
But something was missing. Something I felt in every quiet moment and at every glimpse of the empty second bedroom.
I wanted a baby.
When Jacob and I had decided to try, I’d been so hopeful. I imagined late night feedings, messy art projects, and watching our baby grow.
But months turned into years and that picture never materialised.
We tried everything from fertility treatments to seeing the best specialists in town. Each time we got the same answer, ‘I’m sorry.’
The day everything fell apart is etched in my memory.
We had just left yet another fertility clinic. The doctor’s words echoed in my head.
‘There’s nothing more we can do,’ he said. ‘Adoption may be the best option.’
I held myself together until we got home. As soon as I walked into our living room, I collapsed on the couch, sobbing uncontrollably.
Jacob followed me.
‘Alicia, what’s wrong?’ – He asked. ‘Talk to me, please.’
I shook my head, struggling to force the words out of me. ‘I just…I don’t understand. Why is this happening to us? All I ever wanted was to be a mum and now it’s never going to happen.’
‘It’s not fair. I know,’ he said, sitting down next to me and pulling me to him. ‘But maybe there’s another way. Maybe we don’t have to stop here.’
‘You mean adoption?’ My voice cracked as I looked at him. ‘Do you really think that’s the same thing? I don’t even know if I could love someone else’s baby.’
Jacob’s hands cupped my face and his eyes stopped on me.
‘Alicia, you have more love in you than anyone I know. Biology doesn’t determine parents. Love does. And you…you’re a mum in every sense.’
His words stayed in my head for the next few days. I revisited our conversation every time doubt crept in.
Would I really be able to do this? Would I be able to be the mother a child deserves, even if biologically he or she wasn’t mine?
Finally, one morning, watching Jacob sipping coffee at the kitchen table, I made my decision.
‘I’m ready,’ I said quietly.
He looked up, his eyes filled with hope. ‘For what?’
‘To adoption,’ I announced.
‘What?’ Jacob’s face lit up. ‘You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.’
‘Wait,’ I said, raising an eyebrow. ‘You’ve already thought about it, haven’t you?’
He laughed.
‘Maybe a little,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve been looking for foster homes nearby. There’s one not too far away. We could visit this weekend, if you’re up for it.’
‘Let’s do it,’ I nodded. ‘Let’s visit the foster home this weekend.’
The weekend came quicker than I expected. As we drove to the foster home, I stared out the window, trying to calm my nerves.
‘What if they don’t like us?’ – I whispered. whispered I whispered.
‘They’ll love us,’ Jacob said, squeezing my hand. ‘And if they don’t, we’ll figure it out. Together.’
When we arrived, a kind woman named Mrs Jones met us at the door. She led us inside, telling us about the place.
‘We have some wonderful children I’d like you to meet,’ she said and led us into a playroom filled with laughter and chatter.
As my eyes scoured the room, they stopped on a little boy sitting in the corner. He wasn’t playing like the others. He was watching.
His big eyes were full of thought, and they seemed to see right through me.
‘Hi,’ I said, crouching down next to him. ‘What’s your name?’
He looked at me silently.
At that moment my gaze shifted from him to Mrs Jones.
‘Doesn’t he talk?’ I asked.
‘Oh, Bobby’s talking,’ she giggled. ‘He’s just shy. Give him time and he’ll come round.’
I turned to Bobby again, my heart aching for this quiet little boy.
‘Nice to meet you, Bobby,’ I said, though he didn’t say anything back.
Later, in her office, Mrs Jones told us his story.
Bobby had been abandoned as an infant and left outside another foster home with a note saying, ‘His parents are dead and I am not prepared to take care of the boy.’
‘He’s been through more than most adults,’ she says. ‘But he’s a sweet, smart boy. He just needs someone to believe in him. Someone who will care about him. And loved him.’
At that moment, I didn’t need any more convincing. I was ready to welcome him into our lives.
‘We want him,’ I said, looking at Jacob.
He nodded. ‘Of course.’
As we signed the papers and prepared to bring Bobby home, I felt something I hadn’t felt in years. Hope.
I didn’t know what challenges lay ahead, but I knew one thing for sure. We were ready to love this boy with everything we had.
And that was just the beginning.
When we brought Bobby home, our lives changed in ways we never imagined.
From the moment he entered our home, we wanted him to feel safe and loved. We decorated his room with bright colours, shelves full of books and his favourite dinosaurs.
But Bobby remained speechless.
He watched everything with big, thoughtful eyes, as if trying to figure out if it was real or temporary. Jacob and I poured all our love into him, hoping he would open up.
‘Do you want to help me bake biscuits, Bobby?’ I asked, crouching down beside him.
He nodded, his tiny fingers gripping the biscuit moulds, but he didn’t say a word.
Jacob took him to football practice one day and cheered him on from the sidelines.
‘Nice kick, mate! You can do it!’ – he shouted.
But Bobby? He only smiled weakly and remained silent.
In the evening, I’d read him bedtime stories.
‘Once upon a time,’ I would begin, peering into the book to see if he was paying attention.
He was always paying attention, but he never spoke.
That’s how the months went by. We didn’t push him because we knew he needed time.
His sixth birthday was approaching and Jacob and I decided to throw him a little party. Just the three of us and a cake with little dinosaurs on top.
The look on his face when he saw the cake was worth all the effort.
‘Do you like it, Bobby?’ asked Jacob.
Bobby nodded and smiled at us.
As we lit the candles and sang Happy Birthday, I noticed Bobby staring at us intently. When the song ended, he blew out the candles and spoke for the first time.
‘My parents are alive,’ he said quietly.
Jacob and I exchanged shocked looks, not knowing if we’d understood him correctly.
‘What did you say, honey?’ I asked, kneeling down next to him.
He looked up at me and repeated the same words.
‘My parents are alive.’
I couldn’t believe my ears.
How did he know that? Did he remember something? Maybe someone had told him?
My thoughts raced, but Bobby didn’t say anything else that night.
Later, as I tucked him into bed, he clutched his new stuffed dinosaur in his hands and whispered: ‘In foster care, the adults said my real mum and dad didn’t want me. They didn’t die. They just gave me away.’
His words broke my heart and made me curious about the foster family. Are his parents really alive? Why hadn’t Mrs Jones told us that?
The next day, Jacob and I went back to the foster home to confront Mrs Jones. We wanted answers.
When we told her about what Bobby had said, she looked uncomfortable.
‘I…I didn’t want you to find out this way,’ she admitted, kneading her hands. ‘But the boy’s right. His parents are alive. They’re rich and they didn’t want a child with health problems. They paid my boss to keep it a secret. I didn’t agree with it, but it was none of my business.’
‘What kind of health problems?’ I asked.
‘He wasn’t well when he was abandoned, but the illness was temporary,’ she explained. ‘He’s fine now.’
‘And the story about the note? Was it completely made up?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘We made up that story because our boss said so. I’m sorry about that.’
Her words sounded like betrayal. How could you abandon your own child? And for what? Because he wasn’t perfect in their eyes?
When we got home, we explained things to Bobby as simply as possible. But he was adamant.
‘I want to see them,’ he said, clutching his stuffed dinosaur tightly.
Despite our doubts, we knew we had to honour his request. So we asked Mrs Jones for his parents’ address and contact details.
At first, she wouldn’t let us contact them. But when we told her about Bobby’s situation and how he so desperately wanted to see them, she was forced to change her mind.
Soon we took Bobby to his parents’ house. We didn’t know how he would react, but we were sure it would help him heal.
As we pulled up to the towering gates of the mansion, Bobby’s eyes lit up in a way we had never seen before.
As we parked the car and walked toward the house, he clung to my hand, his fingers gripping mine tightly as if he would never let go.
Jacob knocked on the door, and a few moments later a well-dressed couple appeared. Their polished smiles faded as soon as they saw Bobby.
‘Can we help you?’ – The woman asked in a trembling voice.
‘This is Bobby,’ Jacob said. ‘Your son.’
They looked at Bobby with wide eyes.
‘Are you my mummy and daddy?’ – The little boy asked.
The couple looked at each other and they seemed to want to disappear. They were embarrassed and began to explain why they had given up their child.
‘We thought,’ the man began. ‘We thought we were doing the right thing. We couldn’t cope with a sick child. We believed someone else could give him a better life.’
I felt anger rise up in me, but before I could say anything, Bobby stepped forward.
‘Why didn’t you keep me?’ – He asked, looking straight into the eyes of his birth parents.
‘We…we didn’t know how to help you,’ the woman replied in a shaky voice.
Bobby frowned. ‘I don’t think you even tried…’
Then he turned to me.
‘Mummy,’ he began. ‘I don’t want to go with the people who left me. I don’t like them. I want to be with you and Daddy.’
Tears filled my eyes as I knelt down beside him.
‘You don’t have to go with them,’ I whispered. ‘We’re your family now, Bobby. We’ll never let you go.’
Jacob put a protective hand on Bobby’s shoulder.
‘Yeah, we’ll never let you go,’ he said.
The couple didn’t say anything in response, just shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. Their body language said they were ashamed, but not a word of apology escaped their lips.
As we left the mansion, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace. Bobby had chosen us that day, just as we had chosen him.
Through his act, I realised that we weren’t just his foster parents. We were his real family.
After that day, Bobby blossomed, his smile grew even brighter and his laughter filled our home. He began to trust us completely, sharing his thoughts, dreams, and even his fears.
Watching him thrive, Jacob and I felt like our family was finally complete. We loved it when Bobby proudly called us ‘Mommy’ and ‘Daddy.’
And every time, it reminded me that it’s love, not biology, that makes a family.
