That simple answer meant the world to Lucas — and to me — because we knew we had found someone who truly belonged in our family.
However, blending our lives wasn’t without challenges, particularly when it came to Michael’s mother, Loretta.
She had always been a traditionalist and believed crochet was “a girl’s craft,” often making her disapproval clear around Lucas.
She would dismiss his work with patronizing comments, suggesting it was silly or inappropriate for a boy.
Sometimes, Lucas would hear her voice dripping with sarcasm, making him second-guess his skills. Yet Lucas never let her negativity stop him.
Crocheting became his creative sanctuary — a private space where he could express himself, build confidence, and explore his imagination without judgment.
Every evening, he would sit quietly at the kitchen table, hands moving skillfully over yarn and hook, weaving delicate patterns with a concentration and patience far beyond his years.
It was his secret passion, and he poured his heart into it, often smiling to himself as the shapes began to take form.
I was speechless when he unveiled a breathtaking, hand-crocheted ivory wedding dress, crafted with precision, love, and remarkable attention to detail.
Each stitch was a testament to his patience, creativity, and dedication.
The patterns were intricate, the lace delicate, and the overall design elegant and sophisticated.
Tears streamed down my face as I took in the enormity of what he had accomplished.
This dress was more than a gift; it was a symbol of Lucas’s love for both Michael and me, and a demonstration of the confidence and resilience he had nurtured despite the criticism he had sometimes endured.
It was, in every sense, a masterpiece created by the hands of someone who had put his heart into every fiber.
On our wedding day, the dress stunned everyone who saw it. Guests whispered in awe, pointing out the intricate stitching and marveling at Lucas’s talent.
Yet, as often happens in life, not everyone was appreciative. Loretta, in front of dozens of attendees, loudly criticized the dress, mocking Lucas’s hard work.
“Please tell me you didn’t let that child make it,” she said, patting him on the head as if he were still a small child, dismissing the years of skill, patience, and dedication he had invested.
Lucas’s face fell, his eyes welling with tears as he whispered, “I’m sorry, Mom.” My heart shattered in that moment.
I longed to protect him from her cruelty, to shield him from humiliation, but I realized I didn’t have to face it alone.
Michael immediately stepped forward, his voice calm but firm, resonating with authority and love. “Mom, stop talking,” he said, addressing Loretta.
“You humiliated my son. And yes — he is my son.” The words hung in the air, creating a moment of stunned silence.
Then, one by one, the guests began to applaud.
Michael didn’t stop there. He announced that after the ceremony he would file the paperwork to legally adopt Lucas, making it official that he was not just a stepfather, but a father in every sense of the word. Continue reading…
