On a crisp autumn morning, the air carried a faint chill as Emily and I prepared for a day that would change our lives forever. It wasn’t just any day—it was the day we hoped to grow our family. The idea of adoption had been a long-discussed and carefully considered decision, but even with all the preparation, there was still a knot of nervous energy between us.
“Emily, are you ready?” I called out as I laced my shoes. My mother had graciously agreed to watch our five-year-old daughter, Sophia, so we could spend the entire day at the shelter.

Emily appeared at the top of the stairs, her hands smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her blouse. “I think so, David,” she said softly. Her voice carried a tremor, a mix of hope and apprehension. “What if the child doesn’t connect with us? What if…”
“Hey,” I interrupted, walking over to take her hands. “We’ve talked about this. We’re ready. And if any kid is lucky enough to have you making pancakes for them, they’ll fall in love immediately.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. “You always know how to ease my nerves.”
Sophia peeked around the corner, her big brown eyes curious. “Mommy, can I have pancakes tomorrow?”
“Of course, sweetheart,” Emily replied, bending down to kiss her forehead. But there was a flicker of sadness in her gaze—a quiet longing I’d come to recognize. While Emily loved Sophia as her own, she’d dreamed of the day she’d hear a child call her “Mommy” from the start.