WE ADOPTED A 3-YEAR-OLD BOY — WHEN MY HUSBAND WENT TO BATHE HIM FOR THE FIRST TIME, HE SHOUTED, ‘WE MUST RETURN HIM!’
I’ve been married to my husband for 10 years, and after struggling to have a child, we decided to adopt. My husband, a busy businessman, didn’t have the time to focus on the process, so I took it upon myself to call agencies, submit paperwork, and review lists of children in need of homes.
We initially planned to adopt an infant, but the demand was high. Then I found a photo of a 3-year-old boy whose mother had abandoned him. The boy’s big blue eyes captured my heart.
When I showed the photo to my husband, he liked Sam too. We talked it over and felt ready for this commitment.
So, we completed the paperwork and a month later, we brought Sam home. I was overjoyed! My husband even offered to bathe him for the first time to build a connection, and I felt so relieved that he was excited about becoming a dad.
But just a minute after they entered the bathroom, my husband ran out and shouted, “WE MUST RETURN HIM!”CONTINUE..⬇️

I never expected that bringing home our adopted son would unravel the fabric of my marriage. But looking back now, I realize that some gifts come wrapped in heartache, and sometimes the universe has a twisted sense of timing.
After years of infertility, we adopted Sam, a sweet 3-year-old with ocean-blue eyes. But when my husband went to bathe Sam, he ran out, yelling, “We must return him!” His panic made no sense until I spotted the distinctive marking on Sam’s foot.
“Are you nervous?” I asked Mark as we drove to the agency.
My hands fidgeted with the tiny blue sweater I’d bought for Sam, our soon-to-be son. The fabric was impossibly soft against my fingers, and I imagined his small shoulders filling it out.

“Me? Nah,” Mark replied, but his knuckles were white against the steering wheel. “Just ready to get this show on the road. Traffic’s making me antsy.A man driving a car | Source: Pexels

He drummed his fingers on the dash, a nervous tick I’d noticed more frequently lately.

“You’ve checked the car seat three times,” he added with a forced chuckle. “Pretty sure you’re the nervous one.”

“Of course I am!” I smoothed the sweater again. “We’ve waited so long for this.”

The adoption process had been grueling, mostly handled by me while Mark focused on his expanding business.

The endless paperwork, home studies, and interviews had consumed my life for months as I searched agency lists for a child. We’d initially planned to adopt an infant, but the waiting lists stretched endlessly, so I started expanding our options.
That’s how I found Sam’s photo — a three-year-old boy with eyes like summer skies and a smile that could melt glaciers.

His mother had abandoned him, and something in those eyes spoke directly to my heart. Maybe it was the hint of sadness behind his smile, or perhaps it was fate.