I was completely taken aback to discover another child who looked so much like my daughter—same honey-brown hair, matching dimples, and even the same birthmark on her wrist. But there she was, in a shelter I had only been to because my wife and I had made the decision to adopt. That revelation turned my entire understanding of my past upside down.

I’m James, a dad in my thirties to my wonderful five-year-old daughter, Olivia, from my previous marriage. When I first met my wife, Claire, I was a single dad trying to figure out how to juggle a toddler and a new relationship. Claire and Olivia clicked right away; it felt like a missing puzzle piece had finally slotted into place. As I watched them together, memories of the moments I shared with Olivia’s birth mother, Caroline, flooded back to me, reminding me of the time before our marriage fell apart. Whether it was good or bad, Caroline lingered in the shadows of my life, a reminder of past heartache, yet I found a sense of peace with it all.

We first started talking about adopting a child about a year ago. Claire had always envisioned growing our family. She cherished Olivia deeply, yet she yearned to embrace motherhood from the start—cradling a newborn in her arms, listening to the delightful sound of a child calling her “Mommy” for the very first time. The question was: should we have a child biologically, or should we consider adoption?

We discussed the various paths we could take, but adoption really struck a chord with both of us. We both believed that there were children out there who were longing for love and a stable home. We both felt a newfound sense of purpose from the idea. We started the journey, completing forms, attending interviews, and getting ready for the moment we would finally meet the child who would become part of our family.

It was the morning we were set to visit Mrs. Alvarez at the local children’s shelter, and I remember tying my sneakers while Claire lingered at the top of the stairs. She glanced down, absentmindedly smoothing out her blouse, and I could sense her anxious energy from across the room.

“Are you alright?” I inquired softly.

She pressed her lips together, her wide eyes betraying a flicker of anxiety. “I’m really excited, James, but I can’t help feeling a bit scared as well.” What happens if we don’t bond with any of the kids? What if they don’t like us?

I made my way up the stairs and gently took her hands, offering a comforting squeeze. “We won’t find out unless we take the leap.” Kids really look up to you—I can see how Olivia’s face just beams when she’s with you. It will be just like before.

She nodded and exhaled slowly. Suddenly, we heard Olivia’s soft voice from the living room, calling out for Claire. “Mom, can I have pancakes?”