I am a wife, a health coach, and an adoptive mama, and I’m so excited to share pieces of our adoption journey with you. I became a foster mom at age 25. I know that’s not very common, but I grew up in a family who fostered children, and it always felt like a part of who I was. Over the years, I’ve heard so many people worry about how fostering might affect their biological kids, but for me, it awakened something deep in my heart. I remember telling my dad when I was six, “When I grow up, I’m going to adopt two little kids.” I have such fond memories of my foster siblings, and I always knew foster care and adoption would be part of my life when I had a family of my own—I just didn’t know exactly how it would look.
Growing up in the church, I imagined meeting a man, falling in love, getting married, having babies, and adopting children. I met my wonderful husband, David, in high school after a school dance. For about ten years, I tried off and on to convince him to go out with me, but he kept turning me down. Then one day, the stars aligned—he commented on a photo I posted on Facebook, we started talking, and the rest is history.
When I began dating David, I told him immediately that I wanted to adopt and foster kids. He said yes—but I don’t think he fully understood what he was agreeing to at the time. We got married on July 15, 2017, at a beautiful barn in Richfield, Wisconsin. Two days later, on our honeymoon in Riviera Maya, while sitting on the beach, we made a life-changing decision: we filled out an application for a special needs adoption program through Children’s Hospital. This program allows you to adopt children who are already legal orphans or close to becoming legal orphans.
We jumped in headfirst, anxious and excited but completely naïve. A few weeks after our honeymoon, we found out we were pregnant—but it didn’t slow down our adoption journey one bit. We were already licensed foster parents in our county and had fostered two teenage boys. Those early experiences came with their own challenges, but they also prepared us in ways we didn’t realize.
One day, a foster care advocate named Tammy Rose reached out to me. We hit it off immediately, quickly became friends, and she let our licensing agency know we were interested in adopting. Days later, I received a phone call that would change our lives forever. I was sitting in Tammy’s car when she said, “Hi, Ashley. Would you potentially be interested in meeting three pre-adoptive siblings? They’ve been in foster care for about 18 months, and we want to keep them together—they’re currently in separate foster homes.”
I was shaking, tears streaming down my face. I was in such a fragile place, longing to be a mom. Without hesitation, I said, “Yes!” Tammy couldn’t share much, but she handed me a pen and a yellow Post-it. I wrote down the kids’ ages: 7, 4, and 2. I didn’t know their names, but I knew my heart was ready to meet them.
A few days later, David and I drove to meet these children at a Burger King play place. We held hands the entire way, praying, crying, and hugging in the car. When we walked inside, a whirlwind of kids played around us. Then I saw her—my daughter—and I knew it the moment our eyes met. Our souls connected instantly. We met all three children, their foster parents, and their incredible maternal grandparents, who we instantly bonded with. (We’ve since adopted them as our own, and they remain part of our family as “bonus parents.”)
That night, one of the foster moms mentioned something that made me freeze: the kids had a baby brother on the way. We would need to commit to four children instead of three. Without hesitation, David and I said yes. Walking out of that play place, David said, “They’re our kids.” My heart agreed. We called our agency the next morning and said, “We’ll take them all.”
We prepared their bedrooms before they came for the weekend. I cried sitting on the floor of one of the rooms, realizing, I’m about to be a mom. That first weekend was magical—the honeymoon phase of parenting. Before the kids arrived, their grandparents had told them, “This is the last time you’ll have to move. They are going to adopt you.” At dinner, I made lasagna—my daughter’s favorite—but she nervously picked at it, biting her lip. When I asked her what was wrong, she whispered, “So, can we call you mom and dad?” My heart melted instantly. David reassured her she could call us whatever she felt comfortable with. She lit up with the biggest, cheesiest smile.
We became parents overnight. Just two weeks later, we took in an emergency placement who stayed with us for almost two years. We went from no kids to four in just two weeks. That first summer was a whirlwind of learning: potty training two kids, running to speech therapy and counseling, navigating visitations, and enduring home visits. The trauma the kids had endured hit me hard. I remember the first time I saw my two-year-old rocking himself to sleep. I held him close, kissed his head, and realized then just how much healing lay ahead.
In September 2018, I was putting together a new princess bed for my daughter when our social worker called. Their baby brother had been born the day before, and we could go meet him. We were nervous—already juggling four kids—but as soon as we held him in our arms, all fear vanished. Watching David cradle our son, seeing the love in his eyes, I knew this little boy was meant to be with us—and with his siblings.
The adoption process was long and grueling. What should have taken six months stretched to nearly three years. I wanted to quit countless times, overwhelmed by the complexity of the cases and endless waiting. Until parental rights are officially terminated, there’s always a chance the kids could leave your home. Many nights I stayed up, crying, praying, and jotting down my thoughts before court hearings.
Being foster parents was some of the hardest work we’ve ever done—but also the most rewarding, because it led us to our children. We wanted all four adopted together, but logistics didn’t allow it. On November 30, 2020, our older two kids, Aria and Ryan, were officially adopted after 1,511 days in foster care. I couldn’t stop crying. We were halfway there. The younger two were supposed to follow shortly, but life had other plans.
On February 3, 2021, just one day before a planned Disney trip, our adoption worker called: we could adopt our younger two children. I cried the entire day, finally pulling out their adoption outfits that had sat in our closet for months. On February 4, 2021, we finalized their adoption. They would never have to lose each other, never be separated again. This was it—our family, forever.
People often say our children are lucky to have us—but truly, we are the lucky ones. They changed our lives and filled our hearts in ways we never imagined. In a perfect world, foster care and adoption wouldn’t be necessary, but I am so grateful that ours intersected with our hearts. This journey has been the hardest thing we’ve ever done—but we would do it over and over if it meant finding our children. Now, we have forever together, and that is everything.
