After years of infertility, I told my mom, hoping for support. Instead, she blamed my past abortion, calling it karma. I blocked her. Months later, a glossy adoption flyer arrived, with a baby’s face circled and one word: “You.”

Confused but curious, my husband and I visited the agency. The baby, Amir, had been surrendered at birth, no mother listed. My mom finally admitted he was my half-sister Mireya’s child, given up because she didn’t want him.

I contacted Mireya, who warned me not to adopt out of guilt, only love. Despite the painful past and complicated family ties, I wanted to be Amir’s mother. The adoption process was tough, but Amir came home.

Months later, I sent my mom a photo of Amir smiling with spaghetti on his face. Her apology came as a voice note: she was wrong about karma and hoped I’d find joy “in spite of” everything.

Family can hurt deeply, but sometimes love finds its way through brokenness — sometimes in a flyer, sometimes in a baby’s smile.