For the next fifteen minutes we stood in the middle of the kitchen in total silence while I scrolled through our checking accounts, credit card balances and medical statements.

Our financial situation was undeniably bleak, with only a couple of thousand dollars left in cash savings and medical bills stacking up from two separate hospital stays.

But as I looked at the red figures on the bright screen, not one line on it justified robbing our nine-year-old of his family and his sense of belonging.

“What exactly did you tell Joanie when you called to arrange all this?” I asked, handing the phone back with a steady hand.

“I just told her things were crazy with the twins and that Austin would really benefit from some quiet time out in the country with her,” he muttered.