A Dream Placed in My Heart” One morning, while waiting at a red light after dropping the kids off at school, I heard something on the radio that changed my life. Joel Osteen’s voice echoed from the speakers, assuring that if God placed a dream within you, it’s because He’s already equipped you with all you need to make it real.”
I started crying right there in the car. I knew deep down that the dream in my heart, to adopt a child, was real and not going away. I had always loved the idea of adoption, even though I had six biological children.
Life was full, divorce, remarriage, my husband’s MLB career, and even the heartbreaking loss of our stillborn daughter. With all of that, adoption kept getting pushed aside. But after our sixth child, I felt the pull even stronger. Gratitude filled our lives, yet a persistent sense lingered within me, a quiet conviction that our purpose wasn’t fully realized. At first, my husband didn’t share my urgency.
He already had four daughters, had helped raise my two children, and was coming to the end of his career. Naturally, he had questions, about the cost, the process, and what kind of love he would feel for a child not biologically his.
I explained that when a baby is placed in your arms, love grows. It just does. I kept praying for clarity. I was told that having six children already might make it hard for a birth mom to choose us. One agency warned that my only options might be a long wait or adopting a child with complex health issues.
Even so, I held on to hope and continued to pray. Then came a call from Sharonn, a friend and midwife who had always known about my adoption dream. She reminded me of something she once said after one of my C-sections: “This isn’t your last baby.”
Now, she told me there were baby boys, Black baby boys, due soon, and they needed families. I cried. I knew this was it. My husband and I were matched with a young African-American birth mother. She had placed a baby before and was due again in 12 weeks.
Race was never a concern for us. In fact, knowing Black boys were harder to place made our decision easier. She had faced a hard life, abuse, trauma, and little support. When I met her, I saw more than a young woman placing a baby for adoption.
I saw someone who needed love, too. I started going with her to doctor appointments, checking in often, and doing my best to be there for her. When our son, Asher, was born, I was by her side in the delivery room.
She spent a few quiet hours with him and then made the brave choice to let us take him home. She made sure to pump colostrum before leaving so he would have something to eat in her absence. I continued breastfeeding him, thanks to my toddler who had helped keep my milk supply going.
Our bond, the three of us, is one built on love, sacrifice, and grace. Today, Asher calls me “Momma” and kisses my face every morning. He adores my husband and wants to sleep curled up in his arms each night.
This little boy has brought so much joy into our lives. Adoption didn’t just bring us Asher, it gave me a renewed purpose. I actively promote adoption and offer guidance to young mothers facing difficult situations. I want people to see adoption for what it truly is: a powerful, life-giving choice. You may not know the start of a child’s story, but you can still help give them a beautiful ending.
