Those ugly words landed like a physical punch to my gut, leaving me gasping for breath in the middle of my son’s bedroom.

“What else did she say to your dad, Austin?” I asked, fighting with every bit of willpower I had to keep my voice steady.

“She told Dad our family was running out of money, and Aunt Joanie could take me because I wasn’t really your baby anyway,” he whispered.

He dropped his head so low that his chin pressed hard against his chest, and his voice sank into a painful, hollow tone.

“She said I was adopted, Mom,” he mumbled, picking at a loose thread on his comforter.