“When my husband tried to bathe the three-year-old boy we adopted for the first time, he yelled, ‘We have to return him.'”
I’ve been married for ten years now. After several difficult years of trying to conceive, we decided to adopt. Due to his busy work schedule, my husband was unable to participate, so I managed everything on my own. I looked over the profiles of the children in need of a home, called the agencies, and filled out the required paperwork.
At first, we planned to adopt a child, but the demand was too high. Then one day I came upon a photo of a three-year-old boy who had been abandoned by his mother. His big blue eyes immediately captured my attention.
After I showed my husband the photo, he fell in love with the youngster. He was given the name Sam by us. After much discussion, we were ready to take this important step.
A month after the formalities were over, Sam visited our home. I was overjoyed! My husband, who was clearly excited about the idea of having a child, even offered to give him his first bath as a way to establish a rapport with him. I was thrilled to see him take part.
But less than a minute after he and Sam had gone into the bathroom, he shrieked, “We have to return him!” and raced out.
His fear seemed beyond explanation till I found something strange.
The Adoption Process
“Are you feeling anxious?” I asked Mark as we drove to the agency. I clutched a small blue sweater I’d bought especially for Sam, imagining how it would fit him like a glove and softly warm his sensitive shoulders.
Me? “Not at all,” he responded, his calm façade betrayed by his hard grasp on the steering wheel. “All I can hope for is that everything goes smoothly. This traffic is unbearable to me.
He was beating the dashboard with growing anxiety, and I had noticed a tic in him recently.
“You’ve checked the car seat a dozen times,” I said with a soft smile. “I think the most nervous person is you.”
“I’m obviously nervous!” I remarked, caressing the sweater’s fabric. “We have been looking forward to this day for ages.”
Getting to know Sam
Mark devoted himself to his business during the exhausting adoption process, putting in endless hours of paperwork, home inspections, and interviews. Because of this, I spent a lot of time searching the agency’s website for the picture of the perfect child. Then I met Sam, a little child with eyes the color of July sky and a smile that could melt ice. When his mother left him, I saw in his eyes a mysterious strength as well as grief.
One evening, I showed Mark the image on the iPad. His face lit up with a soft smile. He’s a sweet little boy. Those eyes are quite special.
But questions such, “Will we be good enough?” started to surface. I asked.
“Of course,” he reassured me as he squeezed my shoulder. “I have no doubt that you will be an excellent mother, no matter how old he gets.”
The First Consultation
After completing all the papers, the social worker, Mrs. Chen, welcomed us and led us to a small playroom. There, among colorful blocks, Sam was working hard at building a skyscraper.
Remember that kind couple we talked about, Sam? “They are present,” Mrs. Chen said softly.
As I knelt beside him, my heart was pounding. “That skyscraper is amazing, Sam! Would you like help?
He looked at me for a long moment, then nodded and gave me a red block. That small gesture seemed to be the beginning of something great.
Home and the First Crack
On the way home, Mark embraced his stuffed elephant in silence as Sam made little, funny noises that made him smile. I found it hard to believe that we now had this weak little boy. At home, I began unloading his meager belongings. He arrived with a small bag that didn’t appear to be heavy enough to hold an entire childhood.
“I’ll give him his bath,” Mark said. “You can finish setting up his room.”
“That’s fantastic, don’t forget the bath toys,” I replied with a smile.
But the joy only persisted for 47 seconds.
A shrill cry rang out from the bathroom. I saw Mark coming out, looking as pale as a ghost, as I ran down the corridor.
“What is meant by’return him’? We adopted him not long ago! He cannot be brought back to the store! I didn’t weep.
Mark moved uncomfortably and raked his hands through his hair, breathing heavily.
“I realize that I can’t claim him as my son. “It was a mistake,” he whispered, avoiding my gaze.
It was incredible what I was hearing. You were laughing with him and mimicking the elephant noises in the car just a few hours ago! Why now?
His eyes were downcast and trembling as he whispered, “I’m not sure… “I can’t connect with him.”
I went into the bathroom. Sam, bewildered, was almost fully dressed except for his socks and shoes. He did not let go of his elephant.
I smiled and said, “Hey sweetheart,” despite the pain. Let’s clean you up, all right. Mr. Elephant might also want to attend.
Sam whispered, “He’s afraid of water.”
“That’s okay, he can just watch,” I said, placing the toy on the shelf. I then gave him a light wash, hoping to bring back some joy.
On his small calf, I noticed a birthmark that was identical to the one I had noticed on Mark’s leg during the summer at the pool. My heart was racing, and my mind was racing with disturbing thoughts.
“You’ve got magic bubbles,” Sam said, joyfully rubbing the foam I had poured.
“They’re special bubbles,” I mumbled as I watched him play. He had a strangely familiar smile.
Veracity and Change
I found Mark in our room late that night after putting Sam to bed. On the bed, it felt like a chasm separating us.
“The birthmark on his leg is exactly like yours,” I said silently.
Mark stopped, removed his watch, and said, “It’s just a coincidence,” with a raspy laugh. Many people have birthmarks from birth.
“I want a DNA test,” I said firmly.
“That’s absurd,” he shouted, and turned away. You’re overusing your imagination. It has been a difficult day.
But his answer was quite telling. The next day, while Mark was at work, I secretly collected a few strands of Sam’s hair from his brush and a sample of his saliva while he was brushing his teeth on the pretense of a dental examination.
The wait for the results was agonizing. Mark grew more distant and stayed in the office all day, while I grew closer to Sam. A few days later, he began calling me “mom,” and even though it was ambiguous, I always felt reassured when he said it.
As a family, we developed a pattern that included reading before bed, making pancakes in the morning, and going to the park to collect small treasures for his windowsill, such as leaves and rocks.
Two weeks later, the results confirmed my belief that Mark was Sam’s biological father. I could hear Sam laughing and playing with his bubble wand outside as I sat at the kitchen table reading the paper.
“It was just one night,” Mark acknowledged at last. I had been drunk at a meeting. I didn’t know. I never thought that would happen. He reached out, his face twisted in pain. “Please, let us try to fix this. I promise that I’ll change.
I stepped back and spoke calmly, saying, “You panicked when you saw that birthmark.” That’s why you ran.
“Pardon me,” he muttered and slumped into a chair. When I saw him in the bathroom, everything came back to me. That woman… I can’t even remember her name. I was so humiliated that I wanted to forget.
“Four years ago, when I was receiving fertility treatment? Weeping over failure every month? Every word was a sword.
The next day, I spoke with Janet, a knowledgeable lawyer, who confirmed that I was Sam’s legal adoptive mother and that I was entitled to all of his parental rights. Mark was not given legal custody.
I told Mark, “I’m filing for divorce and seeking sole custody of Sam,” since Sam had a good night’s sleep that night.
“His mother already left him—and you almost did the same,” I shot back. “I will not permit our son to be abandoned a second time.”
Mark lowered his head. “I treasure you.”
“Love has no purpose if it cannot be genuine. You never loved anyone but yourself.
Mark said nothing. It was a quick separation. Sam adjusted well in spite of everything, though sometimes he wondered why his father had abandoned us.
“Adults make mistakes sometimes, but that doesn’t mean they don’t love you,” I would remark as I stroked his hair.
I spoke to him as politely as could.
A Future Chapter
Over the years, Sam matured into an amazing young man. Every now and again, Mark writes and sends cards, but he prefers to avoid me.
People often ask me if I wish I had left after finding out. I shake my head.
Sam is no longer an adopted child; he is now my son, despite the betrayal and the biological complexity.
Making a choice is always necessary for love, but it’s never simple.
With the possible exception of his future spouse, I vowed to never leave him.
