My husband, Thomas, and I met Lily after years of infertility had changed our hopes for parenthood. She was five, waiting in a children’s home, repeatedly overlooked because of a large birthmark on her face. At home, she initially asked permission for everything, afraid that belonging could be taken away. We answered with patience and reassurance. Despite painful teasing at school, she gradually gained confidence, pursued her education, and chose medicine as a way to help others feel seen.
Twenty-five years after her adoption, her biological mother wrote to explain
