“I will care for him,” Micah declared. “He can stay with us.”

But the system had its own way of doing things. The caseworker, though kind, spoke with firm finality—Zayden would be placed with a temporary foster family while long-term arrangements were made.

Micah was devastated. He begged. He tried to reason. He cried himself to sleep night after night. Yet the room at the end of the hall stayed empty.

What Micah didn’t know was that behind the scenes, we were doing everything we could. There were interviews to complete, background checks to pass, parenting classes to attend, and paperwork that seemed endless. Late-night phone calls, early morning emails—it consumed us. But we didn’t tell Micah, afraid it might all fall through and break his heart again.

Then, after months of waiting, we called him outside.

He grumbled like any 9-year-old would, dragging his feet behind me and my husband. “What is it?” he asked.

We simply pointed toward the driveway.

Standing there, clutching the same teddy bear, was Zayden.