I was on my way home after a late shift when I suddenly heard the cries of a baby piercing through the quiet night. Glancing toward my neighbor Ellie’s house, I froze upon seeing a stroller abandoned on her porch. A wave of worry surged through me as I quickly approached, bent down, and saw a little boy sobbing, tears streaming down his tiny face.
I knocked on Ellie’s door repeatedly while trying to soothe the baby. After a while, Ellie finally opened the door, looking confused.
"Judy? What's going on?" she asked, her eyes quickly landing on the stroller.
"Ellie, why is there a baby on your porch?" I asked in shock.
"I... I don’t know!" Ellie shook her head. "I didn't hear any crying. I only heard the doorbell. Should we call the police?"
After a brief hesitation, I nodded. We called the authorities, and they took the baby to a shelter. The police also assured us that they would investigate and try to locate the baby’s parents.
In the following days, my husband, Justin, and I couldn't stop thinking about the child. After learning that no family had come forward to claim him, we decided to begin the adoption process. We named him Tom.
Raising a child wasn’t easy, but Tom brought us an indescribable joy. When he turned eight, Justin passed away unexpectedly. His loss left Tom heartbroken for a long time, but with love, support, and therapy, we managed to heal together.
Time passed, and Tom grew up surrounded by love and care. On his 13th birthday, after a lively celebration, I was cleaning up the house when I saw him sitting on the floor of my bedroom, holding a stack of documents.
"Mom… what is this? Am I… adopted?" Tom looked up at me, his wide eyes filled with uncertainty.
I sighed, sat down beside him, and told him everything about that fateful night. I reassured him that even though I hadn’t given birth to him, Justin and I had always loved him as our own.
Tom was silent for a moment before whispering, "I miss Dad… But Mom, I want to find my birth parents."
My heart clenched. I was afraid that if he found his biological family, he might drift away from me. But looking into his longing eyes, I knew I couldn’t refuse.
We began searching. I contacted the shelter, posted on social media, and asked neighbors to share the story. But as time passed, we found nothing.
One day, I visited Ellie and vented about the frustrating search. As I mentioned Tom, she suddenly froze, setting her teacup down and avoiding my gaze.
"Ellie, you know something, don’t you?" I asked, my voice trembling.
Ellie bit her lip and sighed. "Judy… I’m so sorry. I’ve kept this secret for too long. That baby—Tom—is the son of a friend of mine. Her name is Alana."
Ellie explained that Alana had abandoned Tom on her porch with a letter and a pendant engraved with the name “Jack”—his birth name. Alana never wanted the baby’s father, Alex, to know about him.
I was stunned. "Do you still have contact with Alex?"
Ellie nodded and gave me his phone number. It took me days to gather the courage to call. When I finally told Alex the whole story, he was speechless. He had no idea he had a son.
We arranged a meeting between Alex and Tom. At first, Tom was nervous, but as they talked, the awkwardness melted away. They quickly bonded over football, video games, and childhood stories.
From then on, Alex visited often, and they built a strong father-son relationship. Over time, Alex and I also became close. We shared the challenges of raising Tom and supported each other. Slowly, something more began to grow between us.
When Tom turned 18, Alex and I got married. Tom proudly walked me down the aisle, smiling, knowing I would never be alone.
Life had its twists and turns, but I never regretted my journey as a mother. Tom would always be my son, and our family was finally complete.
