One evening, as Leo and I were building a cardboard dinosaur world on the living room floor, a knock came at the door. A woman stood outside, visibly nervous and holding back tears. She gently explained that she was Leo’s birth mother. She didn’t demand or accuse — instead, she expressed a deep desire to know if there was a place in his life for her, even in a small way. My first reaction was fear and protectiveness, but there was also something sincere in her voice that I couldn’t ignore.