I thought I’d never have biological kids—until my wife’s sister blurted out something during a fight that made Clara confess a secret. Years ago, she’d gotten inseminated without telling me, gotten pregnant, and put the baby up for a closed adoption out of fear and guilt. Our son, Evan, was now five.
Shocked but determined, I contacted his adoptive family. They allowed slow visits. Evan warmed up to me, then to Clara. Months later, after the adoptive father suffered a stroke and the mother became overwhelmed, they asked us to take temporary guardianship.
That “temporary” turned into months—until she told us that if we wanted to adopt him permanently, she would support it.
Clara and I both cried.
