Love is supposed to be unconditional. But for my sister, it came with rules. Without hesitation, she gave up her adopted daughter the moment she had a biological son. And when I tried to understand how she could be so heartless, she just shrugged and said, “She wasn’t really mine anyway.”
But karma had already started knocking at her door.
There are moments in life that leave you breathless, shatter your heart, and make your world spin. For me, it was when my sister, Erin, said four cold words about her four-year-old adopted daughter: “I gave her back.”
We hadn’t seen Erin in months. She lived a few states away, and with her pregnancy, we had given her space. But when she gave birth to a baby boy, the whole family decided to visit. We wanted to celebrate with her.
I packed my car with gifts for the baby, but also something special for Lily, my four-year-old goddaughter. A teddy bear she had wanted for months. She was part of the family, after all. Or so I thought.
As we pulled up to Erin’s house, something felt… off. The plastic slide Lily loved was gone. The little garden we planted together last summer had vanished. The cheerful chalk drawings she used to make on the driveway had been washed away.
Erin answered the door, cradling a swaddled baby in her arms. She beamed, her voice filled with pride. “Everyone, meet Noah!”
Mom and Dad immediately cooed over him. Cameras flashed, and laughter filled the air. But something gnawed at me. I glanced around the house. Lily’s drawings weren’t on the fridge. Her toys weren’t scattered on the floor. Her tiny shoes weren’t by the door.
“Where’s Lily?” I asked, still holding her wrapped gift.
For a split second, Erin froze. She exchanged a glance with her boyfriend, Sam, who suddenly became very focused on adjusting the thermostat.
Then she said it, casually, as if it meant nothing. “Oh, I gave her back.”
I blinked, convinced I had misheard. “What? What do you mean, ‘gave her back’?!”
Mom stopped rocking Noah. Dad put down his camera. The whole room went silent.
Erin sighed, like she was explaining something obvious. “I always wanted to be a boy mom. Now I have Noah. Why would I need a daughter? And don’t forget, Lily was adopted. It’s not like she was really mine.”
My stomach twisted. “You GAVE HER BACK?! Erin, she’s a CHILD, not an old sweater you return to the store!”
She rolled her eyes. “Relax, Angela. She was just temporary.”
“Temporary?” The word burned in my throat. “She called you ‘Mommy’ for two years! She loved you! You loved her!”
Erin shrugged. “Yeah, well, things change. I have my real child now. He deserves all my attention. Lily will find another home.”
Something inside me snapped. My hands trembled. “You held her, read her bedtime stories, promised her she was safe—and then just threw her away? Do you even care what this did to her?”
“Of course I do!” Erin huffed. “She’s resilient. She’ll be fine. The agency placed her with a new family. End of story.”
Before I could say another word, there was a sharp knock at the door. Sam went to open it. A man and a woman in professional attire stood on the porch.
“Ms. Erin?” the woman said, flashing an ID. “I’m Vanessa, and this is my colleague, David. We’re from Child Protective Services. We need to talk.”
Erin’s face paled. “CPS? Why?”
“We received a report regarding your adoption dissolution and concerns about your ability to provide a stable home for your child.”
“My son?” Erin’s arms tightened around Noah. “What does this have to do with him?”
David flipped through his notes. “Your neighbor reported that you returned a legally adopted child days after giving birth, with no transition plan. That raises serious concerns about your parenting judgment.”
I saw the panic flood Erin’s face. She turned to us for support. She got none.
“This is ridiculous! I followed all the legal steps!” she stammered.
“Maybe,” Vanessa said. “But we need to assess your household to ensure your son’s well-being.”
For the first time, Erin realized what was happening. She clutched Noah tighter. “You can’t take my baby! He’s MINE!”
She didn’t seem to notice the irony in her words.
“No one is taking anyone today,” Vanessa assured her. “But we are opening an investigation. We’ll be conducting home visits.”
Erin’s face twisted in fury. “This is all because of that nosy old witch next door! She always hated me!”
But Mrs. Thompson wasn’t the only one who had reported her. I had, too.
For weeks, I couldn’t stop thinking about Lily. Where was she now? Was she safe? Did she think we abandoned her?
I started making calls. I reached out to agencies. I hired a lawyer. And one day, I finally got a lead.
“I’ve located Lily’s case file,” my lawyer told me. “She’s still in foster care. If you’re serious, you might be able to get custody.”
“I’m serious,” I said. “I want her home.”
Months of paperwork, home studies, interviews, and sleepless nights followed. But finally, I was approved for a visit.
The day I saw her again, she was sitting at a tiny table with crayons. She looked up, cautious and small. My heart ached.
“Lily?” I whispered.
She stared for a moment, then recognition lit up her face. “Auntie Angie?”
I dropped to my knees, arms wide. She hesitated—then ran into them. I held her tight, swallowing my tears.
“I missed you, Lily-bug,” I whispered.
She pulled back, small hands on my cheeks. “Why did Mommy leave me? Was I bad?”
The question shattered me. “No, sweetheart. You did nothing wrong. Grown-ups make mistakes. But I promise, I will never leave you. Ever.”
Three months later, Lily came home.
The day I signed the adoption papers, my husband Alex squeezed my hand. Mom and Dad were there too. When the judge declared us officially a family, Lily grinned and threw her arms around me.
“We did it, Mommy!” she beamed.
Mommy.
The word I had longed to hear. The word Erin had thrown away.
Our journey wasn’t easy. Lily had nightmares. She asked hard questions about Erin. But together—with love, therapy, and patience—we built something real.
As for Erin? CPS eventually let her keep Noah, but she had to attend parenting classes and go through regular check-ins.