National Adoption Week takes place from October 19 to 25. This year’s message, “Every Day is Everything”, reminds us that adoption is not about being a perfect parent.

It is about being there, day after day, through the ordinary moments in which trust, security and belonging are built.

For me, National Adoption Week is deeply personal.

Our journey began on a beach in Spain in 2008. My husband and I were lying on neighbouring sun loungers, talking about what family meant to us and whether we might create one of our own. It was a quiet conversation, but it changed our lives.

When we were eventually told about the little boy who might become our son, we sat at our kitchen table holding hands – excited, terrified and contemplating the journey ahead.

Our family’s story has always contained joy and sadness. My mum died the day before our son’s transition to live with us began. At a moment of profound personal loss, this small boy brought light, purpose and hope. He did not replace what had been lost – no child should carry that burden – but his arrival showed us that a new beginning could emerge from the darkest time.

When he was seven, our son told us: “When I first came to live here, I couldn’t work out who my family were. I kept expecting a mummy to appear. Then I realised it was the two of you – and that was OK.”

He is now a young adult, but I have never forgotten those words. They capture something fundamental: families come in many forms, and children recognise love, commitment and belonging.

Our family later grew again when we adopted our daughter. Before meeting her, I visited her foster parents. They had been given our names but had not been told we were a same-sex couple. They assumed my partner was the husband and that “Nick” was short for “Nicola”.

They were expecting a willowy woman. Instead, they opened the door to a six-foot bald man announcing, “Hello, I’m Nick.”

There was a slight pause, but they recovered magnificently.

When our daughter first joined us, she was remarkably quiet, docile and passive. Anyone who knows her today may struggle to believe that description.

Beneath the laughter, however, were complicated emotions. Our son worried his sister’s arrival meant he would have to leave. His early experiences had taught him that homes could disappear. We reassured him that she was an addition, not a replacement: he was our son and we were his family forever.

Adoption does not erase what came before. It begins with loss and often trauma. Adopted people need honesty about their heritage and lifelong support to understand their stories in their own time.

Adoption has brought us challenges, tears, surprises and enormous laughter. Most importantly, it brought the four of us together. Every school run, bedtime conversation, difficult question and terrible joke has helped make us a family – and for that I will always be profoundly grateful.

Those everyday moments have, quite simply, meant everything.