“Grandma said blood makes a really big difference, Mom,” he whispered, his voice shaking with a child’s deepest fear.

“Blood is only biology, Austin, and biology doesn’t decide how much a mother loves her child, and it doesn’t decide who’s responsible for keeping you safe,” I said firmly.

He tugged the cuffs of his long-sleeved shirt down over his knuckles, hiding his small hands in the worn fabric.

“I really wish you and Dad had told me about the adoption a long time ago, Mom,” he admitted, looking at me with sad, searching eyes.

“All week I kept thinking maybe there was something really broken inside me that made you want to trade me in.”