He wound his small arms tight around my neck, rested his chin on my shoulder and let out a long, peaceful breath.

His bedroom still belonged to him, his suitcase sat empty in his closet, and no blue car was ever going to pull into our driveway to take my boy away.

Part 8: What It Costs to Belong

Three months later, our family life looked completely different from anything I’d ever pictured, and yet the ground under our feet felt firmer than it had in years.

I had made the switch to my twenty-hour remote medical billing job, working at a little desk tucked into a corner of our master bedroom while the twins napped.