My whole family drove across several states to celebrate the arrival of my sister Erin’s baby boy, Noah. I brought gifts—baby supplies and a teddy—for Lily, my goddaughter, whom Erin adopted two years ago. Excited to meet my nephew, I was shocked when we arrived: Lily’s slide and garden were gone, and all her toys, drawings, and photos had vanished.
When I asked, “Where’s Lily?” Erin answered, “I gave her back.” She explained she didn’t need an adopted daughter now that she had a biological son, and tossed Lily back like a toy. Our parents were horrified. Erin was cold and unapologetic, claiming Lily was “momentary” and not really hers.
Suddenly, two Child Protective Services reps knocked. They revealed Erin had rushed to end the adoption without proper counseling. They questioned her ability to parent. Erin and her husband insisted they’d followed the law, but the officials weren’t convinced.
I couldn’t stay. I worried about Lily, so with my attorney’s help, I located her in foster care. I got visitation rights and began my own adoption process. It took time and patience, but I finally adopted Lily. My husband Aaron and I celebrated as the adoption was finalized.
Last week, Lily turned six. She still struggles with nightmares and food hoarding, fearing abandonment, but with love and stability, she’s healing. Erin may have discarded her, but to me, Lily has become my entire world.