I Prayed for a Child and Promised to Adopt a Baby—17 Years Later, That Promise Almost Broke Us

I packed the same lunches. I kissed the same scraped knees. I attended the same school plays, sat through the same parent-teacher meetings, and stayed up for the same late-night talks when teenage worries felt enormous.

I thought we were solid. Unshakeable.

Seventeen years passed.

The night before Ruth’s prom, I stood in her doorway, phone in hand, ready to take photos just as I had with Stephanie years earlier.

Ruth sat on the edge of her bed in her dress, shoulders tense.

“MOM,” she said quietly, “YOU ARE NOT COMING TO MY PROM.”

I laughed softly, confused. “What? Of course I am.”

She finally looked at me. Her eyes were red. Her jaw was tight.

“No,” she said. “You’re not. And after prom… I’m leaving.

The word hit me like a slap.

“Leaving? Why?” I asked, my voice barely steady.

She swallowed hard. “Stephanie told me the truth about you.”

The room went cold.

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