In the middle of a Chipotle burrito lunch on January 10, 2019, we were waiting for our son to be born. My phone started buzzing:
“Mom woke up.”
“They are calling for a doctor so she can start pushing.”
“Baby boy is born. 1:15 p.m.!”
Think loud cheers, pretend crowds, and happy dances running through our heads!
We hadn’t even met our birth mom yet, she had chosen us just a couple of weeks prior. Until now, it had only been my husband and me. We had always known we wanted to foster and adopt. After a few years of marriage and some European adventures, we felt ready to add to our family.
Rather than trying for the biological children first, we chose to begin with the both fostering and adoption. Our goal was simple: to love children and trust God with the process. But as we started learning about the needs of children and their families, our perspective shifted. We realized this journey wasn’t just about adding a child to our family, it was about blessing mothers, fathers, and children, with simple no love and care.
We shamed ourselves in our ignorance and surrendered to God. It became about serving a mom in need. If that meant raising her baby, so be it. If it meant helping a family get back on their feet, so be it. We learned to partner with an adoption agency that prioritizes empowering birth parents, ensuring they aren’t coerced and know their options.
It also meant fostering, caring for children whose families were struggling. We rooted for reunification whenever possible, even if it meant saying hard goodbyes and redefining what our family might look like.
After a year of preparation, we got a call the week before Christmas: a mom had chosen us and might want us to adopt her son… and she was due in just three weeks! Excitement, nerves, and prayer filled our hearts as we prepared to meet them.
Fast forward to our Chipotle celebration. We waited what felt like an eternity for mother and baby to finish in the delivery room. We walked, watched TV, and ate dinner, sitting on the couch as life-altering events unfolded just a few floors above us.
Finally, we were called to the hospital. I will never forget sweeping past the curtains to see her holding her baby for the first time. Tears streamed down our faces. We couldn’t believe she and the baby were real and right in front of us.
Over the next 24 hours, we supported her however we could, answering questions, bringing snacks, listening, and praying together. On that final day, when she handed me her son, I was overcome with emotion: heartbreak for her, awe at her bravery, and pure joy at holding this precious boy.
We named him Bearit Noah, Bear from us, Noah from her so that both families would always have a hand in who he is.
Eight months later, we welcomed our foster son, who was just two weeks younger than Bearit. They became close “virtual twins.” A year after that, we were blessed with our biological child, and we’re now expecting another. Our family has grown, shrunk, and grown again, and we wouldn’t have it any other way. Now, four years and four children later, our task remains the same: to love people where they are, with no program. Sometimes that looks like visiting parents in jail, delivering meals, providing groceries, praying, listening, or sharing updates on their children’s lives while in our care. We’ve been blessed so we can bless others. It doesn’t mean life is without struggles, but we continue to submission to God and His will.
