Scott and I first met in the library of a small college tucked away in rural Ohio. We always called it “the school in the middle of a cornfield.” At the time, I didn’t know adoption was already planted in my heart, long before I even spoke to him.
I was studying when Scott worked up the nerve to walk over and say hello. I didn’t even remember his name that night, and it would be months before we went on a real date. But when he finally asked me out, he took me to Barnes & Noble. For a girl who loved books, that was the perfect start. Four years after that first meeting, we were married in our college town.
After three years of marriage, our first daughter, Bailey, was born. Motherhood was hard on me in ways I couldn’t put into words at the time. Looking back, I know I had postpartum depression. Just a few months after Bailey arrived, adoption stirred in my heart.
One Sunday at church, a guest speaker shared his story about adopting a little girl from China. My heart raced, my body felt warm, and I just knew. I turned to Scott later that day and told him what I felt. To my surprise, he said he had felt the exact same thing during the service. That afternoon, I was already researching adoption from China.
But there was one problem: both parents had to be 30 years old to qualify. I was only 25. Five years felt like an eternity to wait. We thought about other countries, but our hearts kept coming back to China. We decided to wait.
Two years later, our son Ethan was born. The transition with him was easier. When he became a toddler, I picked up my research again. That’s when we learned something that shook us—most adoptions from China involved “special needs.” Many files mentioned conditions like cleft lip, heart defects, or other correctable needs. At first, I was terrified. I listed excuse after excuse: we lived in a rural town without a children’s hospital, we already had two kids, our lives were full. But deep down, I knew God was nudging us forward.
Over time, my fear softened. The term “mild/correctable needs” no longer scared me. It wasn’t just research that changed my heart—I believe God met me in that fear and gave me peace. We started the paperwork, filled out the long home study, and sent off our dossier to China right as I turned 30. Then, we waited.
Six months later, the call came. We had been matched with a little girl. I remember pacing the room, trying to take notes while the agency gave us details. My hands shook with excitement. Her file listed possible health concerns, but in my heart, I felt she was healthy.
Four months later, Scott and I flew to China. Bailey and Ethan stayed home with grandparents. In Wuhan, we finally met Brielle. The orphanage staff brought the children into a hotel conference room. I still remember seeing her across the room before we were allowed to approach. When they finally called our names, we walked toward the little girl we had prayed for. She resisted us at first of course she did. We were strangers. I offered her a baby doll, but it only scared her. Once we hid it away, she began to warm up. Back in our hotel room, she quickly showed us glimpses of her personality. And to me, she looked so healthy.
We spent the next weeks finalizing paperwork and, eventually, flying back home. At the airport, family and friends gathered with signs and cheers. Bailey and Ethan ran into our arms, and someone even brought Brielle a bag of oranges, her favorite snack. Soon after, doctors confirmed what I had felt in my heart all along: she was healthy.
A few years later, we knew Brielle needed a sibling who shared her adoption story. This time, our journey led us to South Korea. We hoped for a boy, but we couldn’t choose the gender. Ethan prayed hard for a brother, and he was thrilled when we got the referral for a little boy in January 2020.
Then COVID hit. Borders closed, timelines stalled, and everything felt uncertain. For months, I worried about canceled adoptions, delays, and positive test results. But slowly, God reminded me that if He called us to this, He would carry us through.
In April 2021, after months of waiting, we flew to South Korea. We quarantined for two weeks, passed all the tests, and finally met Evan. Holding him erased every hard day of waiting. Over the following weeks, we soaked up Korean culture, riding subways, eating kimbap, exploring museums, and visiting the Korean War Memorial.
On May 20, 2021, we landed back in Nashville as a family of six. Two adoptions. Two different journeys. Both filled with fear, faith, and miracles.
Sometimes I think back to that library in the middle of a cornfield, where a boy worked up the nerve to say hello. Neither of us could have imagined the story God would write for our family. Today, I’m so thankful we said yes to His call, even in the middle of our doubts. Now we get the gift of watching His plans unfold in the lives of our children.
