That night, as I closed the bedroom door for the fourth time, I heard her soft voice: “Mommy, can I ask you a question?” I sighed, already tired and wanting to finish the laundry. It was 9 PM, and she had school in the morning. I told her she could ask just one question.

But then she asked, “Mommy, what was my mom like?”

Suddenly, I didn’t mind the laundry or the late hour. I lay down beside her, ready to listen and answer. One question led to another, and before long, we were deep in conversation—questions we had talked about many times before, but ones she needed to ask again to understand her story better.

“Do I look like my mom?”
“Do you think she loves me?”
“Why couldn’t she take care of me?”
“Where was I born?”
“What’s my dad’s name?”
“Where did you meet me?”
“Why did you adopt me?”
And the one that always makes me smile: “How did my dad put me inside my mommy’s belly?”

We talked until our eyes grew heavy and sleep finally came.

In our home, these conversations are never off-limits. We encourage open talks about their births, their families, and their adoption journey. It’s important to me that my children never feel ashamed or ignored, that their questions are met with honesty and love—no matter how many times they ask or how big the questions get.

Her adoption nine years ago didn’t erase her past—it blended our lives together. And as she grows, I know these talks will become more complex. But we’ll always choose honesty, patience, and kindness.

Because every question deserves an answer, and every child deserves to know their story.