After years of infertility, my husband Mark and I adopted Sam, a sweet 3-year-old boy. But when Mark went to bathe him, he suddenly panicked and shouted, “We must return him!” His fear made no sense—until I saw the birthmark on Sam’s foot, identical to Mark’s.
We’d struggled to adopt for years, finally settling on Sam, whose sad eyes spoke to me. The adoption process had been overwhelming, especially for me, as Mark focused on his business. But Sam’s arrival felt like a dream come true.
However, when Mark saw the birthmark, his reaction was one of terror. He confessed the next day that he was Sam’s biological father. A drunken night at a conference had resulted in Sam’s conception, something Mark had kept secret from me. He hadn’t come clean, even when he saw the birthmark—he panicked, fearing I would leave him.
Devastated, I filed for divorce and sought full custody of Sam, whose biological mother had abandoned him. Mark’s betrayal was too much, and I couldn’t let him abandon Sam too.
Years later, Sam flourished in the life we built, and Mark kept his distance. Though people sometimes ask if I regret not walking away when I discovered the truth, I always say no. Sam is my son—biological ties or not. Love is a choice, and I chose him.
