Love is supposed to be unconditional. But for my sister, it wasn’t. The moment she had a biological son, she gave up her adopted daughter without a second thought. 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.
Some moments change you forever. They break something inside you that can never be put back together. For me, it was when my sister Erin casually announced four words that shattered my heart: “I gave her back.”
Erin had moved to another state, and since she was pregnant, we gave her space. But when she gave birth to a baby boy, we all decided to visit and celebrate the new addition to our family.
I packed my car with gifts, including a special teddy bear for Lily, my four-year-old goddaughter. But as we pulled up to Erin’s house, something felt…off. The little plastic slide Lily loved was gone. The sunflower garden we had planted together last summer had vanished. A strange uneasiness settled in my stomach.
Erin opened the door, cradling a swaddled bundle in her arms. “Everyone, meet Noah!” she announced, beaming.
Our parents gushed over the baby. Mom took him in her arms, and Dad snapped photos excitedly. But my eyes searched the house, looking for traces of Lily—her toys, her drawings on the fridge, her tiny shoes by the door.
“Where’s Lily?” I asked, still smiling, holding the gift I had brought for her.
The second I said her name, Erin’s expression hardened. She glanced at her boyfriend, Sam, who suddenly became very interested in adjusting the thermostat.
Then, with no guilt, she said, “Oh! I gave her back.”
I froze. “What do you mean, ‘gave her back’?”
Mom stopped rocking the baby. Dad lowered his camera. The air in the room turned heavy, suffocating.
“You know I always wanted to be a boy mom,” Erin said casually. “Now I have Noah. Why would I need a daughter? Besides, Lily was adopted. She wasn’t really mine.”
I felt the gift slip from my fingers, crashing to the floor. “You GAVE HER BACK?!” I shouted. “She’s not a toy you return to the store, Erin! She’s a child!”
She rolled her eyes. “Relax, Angela. It’s not like she was my real daughter. She was just…temporary.”
The word burned through me. “Temporary? She called you ‘Mommy’ for two years!”
“Well, now she can call someone else that,” she said, completely unfazed.
“You held her in your arms, you told her you loved her, and the second you had a ‘real’ child, you threw her away?” My voice shook with rage. “What kind of mother does that?”
“You’re overreacting,” she snapped. “I did what was best for everyone. Noah deserves all my love and attention. Lily will be fine. The agency found her another home.”
I could barely breathe. This was the same woman who once swore blood didn’t make a family—love did. What changed?
Then, as if fate had been listening, there was a loud knock at the door.
Sam went to answer it. From where I stood, I saw two people in professional attire standing on the porch. The woman held up an ID. “Ms. Erin? I’m Vanessa, and this is David. We’re from Child Protective Services. We need to speak with you.”
Erin’s face paled. “CPS? Why?”
David stepped forward. “We received reports regarding your adoption dissolution and concerns about the stability of your home environment. We need to discuss your ability to provide a safe space for your son.”
Erin’s arms tightened around Noah. “My son? What does he have to do with this?!”
“Your neighbor reported that you gave up a legally adopted child immediately after giving birth, with no transition plan. That raises concerns about your judgment as a parent.”
I saw realization dawn on her face. Mrs. Thompson—her longtime neighbor—had always adored Lily. I could imagine her watching Erin toss Lily aside like trash and knowing she had to act.
“We’ll be conducting a full investigation,” Vanessa said.
“You can’t take my baby!” Erin cried. “He’s MY SON!”
“We’re not removing anyone at this moment,” David clarified. “But we need to assess the situation. Please cooperate.”
As CPS continued questioning Erin, my mind was on Lily. Where was she? Was she scared? Did she think we had all abandoned her?
I spent weeks calling agencies, searching adoption networks, and hiring a lawyer. Meanwhile, CPS continued their investigation. Mom updated me daily. “They questioned all the neighbors,” she said. “Erin is furious.”
“Has she even asked about Lily? Shown any remorse?”
“No. She keeps saying she did what was best.”
Finally, I got a call from my lawyer. “Lily is still in foster care. If you’re serious about taking custody, we have a chance.”
“I’m more than serious.”
For three months, I filled out endless paperwork, attended parenting classes, and prepared my home. I decorated a bedroom with pink butterfly walls, just as Lily always wanted. My parents helped too—Dad built a castle-shaped bookshelf, and Mom knitted a blanket with Lily’s name on it.
The day came for my first supervised visit. I sat anxiously in the playroom at the Family Connections Center, holding a stuffed elephant. Then, the door opened.
Lily sat at a small table, crayons scattered around her. She looked smaller than I remembered. When her eyes met mine, they were hesitant, cautious. But then, recognition sparked.
“Auntie Angie?” she whispered.
I dropped to my knees, arms wide open. She ran into them, and I held her tightly, tears falling freely.
“I missed you, Lily-bug,” I choked out.
She pulled back, her tiny hands on my cheeks. “Where did you go? I waited. Mommy left me… she said she’d come back, but she didn’t. Was I bad?”
I felt my heart break all over again. “Oh, sweetheart, no. You did nothing wrong. I didn’t know where you were. But I found you. And I won’t leave again.”
She nodded solemnly. “Promise?”
“Promise. And if you’d like… you could come live with me. Forever.”
Her eyes lit up. “In your house? With the big windows?”
“Yes. With pink walls and butterflies.”
“And Mommy and the baby?”
My breath hitched. “No, sweetheart. But you’ll have me. And Uncle Alex. And Grandma and Grandpa. A family who loves you.”
Three months later, Lily officially became my daughter. As the judge signed the adoption papers, she threw her arms around my neck. “We did it, Mommy!”
MOMMY.
The word I had longed to hear.
Life wasn’t perfect. Lily had nightmares. She asked hard questions about Erin. But we worked through it, with love, patience, and therapy.
And Erin? CPS eventually closed their case without removing Noah, though she was forced to attend parenting classes.
Lily just turned six. As she played in the backyard, wearing a butterfly crown, I watched her, holding a picture she had drawn—me, her, and Alex, surrounded by hearts.
She was home. Where she always should have been.
