My adopted son stared at his birthday cake in silence. Then, tears welled up. “My birthday was yesterday,” he whispered. My heart sank—the documents had said today. What else had been hidden?

When I adopted Joey, I wasn’t looking for perfection—just a chance to be a mom and change a life. From the moment he clutched the hem of my sweater during visits, I knew he was mine.

His first week home, I planned a birthday celebration—balloons, pancakes, presents, and a big cake with his name on it. We laughed while making a mess in the kitchen. He looked happy, safe.

But when he opened the gifts, his smile faded. And when the candles were lit, he broke the silence with that devastating truth.

It wasn’t just a date. It was a memory, a part of his story I had unknowingly erased. And I realized—Joey had come with more than a new name. He came with a past.