It’s hard to believe it’s been almost four years since a single, unexpected email changed our lives. That email, a quick phone call, and the first meeting with a tiny, fragile baby girl sent us careening onto what we now call our family rollercoaster. Though that moment feels like yesterday, our journey to meeting her—and becoming a family of six—began long before, back in the spring of 2013.
My husband, Jason, and I always knew adoption would be part of our story. Even as a little girl, I played “adoption” with my dolls. I can’t pinpoint exactly where the desire came from, but I believe God was planting the seed in my heart from the very beginning. In May 2013, just after celebrating our fifth wedding anniversary, we had one precious child and a desire to grow our family through adoption. That same month, we made our first of many calls to start the adoption process through the state. I also began a journal to our future adopted child—a place where I poured my hopes, fears, and prayers, documenting every step of the journey.
But God, as He often does, had a different plan. That same year, He gifted us another blessing: a beautiful baby boy born in June 2014. Our desire to adopt never wavered. Even while raising our sons, I continued writing in our adoption journal, reminding myself of Psalm 27:14: “Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD.” Waiting became the anthem of our journey.
We had assumed adoption would come after our two biological children, but life had a way of teaching us patience, perseverance, and faith. The process of waiting—renewing home studies, preparing for children, and twice being selected as second-choice families—was exhausting. Yet, in that weariness, our hearts changed. For years, we had whispered a protective fear: “We couldn’t foster. We couldn’t risk the heartbreak of giving a child back. We couldn’t fall in love only to lose them.”
In April 2016, God reshaped those fears into courage. He showed us that the love we give a child—regardless of background or circumstance—was exactly what they needed. It wasn’t about avoiding heartbreak; it was about pouring love into a child’s life fully, completely, unconditionally. That is the love every child deserves.
We were ready to foster, but God whispered again: “Wait, I have a plan.” In September 2016, we learned I was pregnant, due in April 2017. My journal reflects the bittersweet mix of emotions: “We’re so excited, but at the same time I struggle because I’ve been praying and waiting to meet you for the last two years.” Once more, waiting consumed our hearts—but this time, it would be brief.
On February 8, 2017, at around 2:30 p.m., the email arrived. A two-day-old baby girl needed a foster family. While our boys napped, I called Jason. I was ready to say yes, unsure if he would feel the same. His words will stay with me forever: “I think this is the baby we have been praying for.”
That very afternoon, we drove to the hospital with our sons and were led to a room where I saw her—the tiniest baby I had ever held, alone in a crib. We held her in our arms for the first time, just two days old, and I realized we had been praying for her long before she even existed. Her story, like all adoption stories, began with brokenness. That day, as imperfect humans, we stepped into that brokenness, choosing to love her fully, no matter what.
If you had asked me then whether I could care for a newborn while 30 weeks pregnant, I would have laughed—then cried! And yet, every late-night bottle feed, every quiet moment rocking her while feeling our unborn daughter kick, was pure blessing. Out in public, the puzzled stares from strangers—my pregnant belly paired with a newborn in my arms—became little reminders that God’s plan often defies logic.
In April 2017, our family officially grew from five to six when our daughter was born, just nine weeks after our foster daughter. They became what we call our “virtual twins,” two little girls growing up side by side while our sons watched the whirlwind unfold. Life was a swirl of nighttime feedings, bath schedules, milestones, court dates, visits from caseworkers, and a baby with her own lawyer. Each day brought new lessons, new challenges, and yes—more waiting.
Learning to parent four children was one thing; learning the foster care system was another. Foster care is woven with brokenness, pain, and separation. Even in those first joyful moments holding our foster daughter, I felt the ache of her birth mother’s absence. But as months passed, I had the privilege of attending visits with her birth mom, watching her care for her child in her own way, asking questions, and expressing gratitude for the love we gave her baby. In those moments, we formed a delicate, beautiful triangle—a bond of respect, love, and understanding.
Then, in August 2018, another email arrived: “She’s all yours.” Her birth mom had chosen to relinquish her parental rights, trusting us to be her forever family. I remember tears streaming down my face as I recalled her words from a prior visit: “Are you ready to adopt her?” Humbling does not begin to describe the feeling of being entrusted with another mother’s child, chosen because of love.
Even after that, the process wasn’t instant. Lost paperwork, human error, and a broken system extended the wait. Every phone call, every notification had my heart racing, wondering if it was “the call” we had prayed for for so many years. Finally, on April 17, 2019, after 798 days as our foster daughter, we made it official—she was ours. Adoption day was a rebirth, not only for her into her forever family, but for us as a unit, finally whole and united. In the courtroom, the judge spoke of her bond with me as if she had been born from my womb. The moment he asked her if she would “be a good girl and obey her parents,” and she yelled, “Ya!”—well, that was pure magic. A high-five later, it was official. She was our daughter.
We continue to choose love every day—with our four amazing children, each a unique gift from God. Four years ago, we said yes to the unknown, yes to love, yes to a baby girl we had only just met. And as someone once told me, “Her story is just beginning.” Today, I see how God redeems, heals, and blesses far beyond what we can imagine. No story could have been written more beautifully by human hands—it was His all along.
