She couldn’t grow a family by biology, so love did it instead, and it turned out to be everything she ever wanted. When she could talk, Rachel said she wanted to be a mom. While classmates dreamed up careers, her school projects pictured a husband, a house full of kids, and beach trips. Some people called it a lack of drive. She called it her purpose. She met a man who loved that dream as much as she did. After years of dating and a fall wedding in 2014, they were ready to start their family. Then months slid by. One month. Four. Seven. A year. Every negative test felt like a door closing. She cried on bathroom floors, hid tears at work, and braced herself whenever someone asked when they’d have kids. Her husband would squeeze her hand because he knew part of her heart cracked a little each time.
Doctors ran every test and found nothing wrong. Unexplained infertility, they said. They tried five rounds of treatment anyway. Five times, hope rose. Five times, it fell. She felt empty. He was worn thin. One night, he asked them to stop everything, the pills, the shots, the rules. Maybe there was another path to becoming parents. They took foster training classes and said yes to the unknown. Within weeks, two small boys needed a home. The first months were hard. These weren’t infants; they were toddlers carrying fear and loss. Routines and gentle structure slowly stitched safety into their days. The boys bloomed, and so did Rachel and her husband. Loving them entirely was risky because foster care aims for reunification first, but half-love was never an option. Those boys became theirs in every way that mattered.
Still, a quiet longing remained to raise a child from birth. They began domestic infant adoption, finished the paperwork, passed the home study, and waited. They were chosen in October 2018 by an expectant mother and were due in February. Showers were thrown. The nursery was ready. They named the baby girl Julia and counted the days one week before the due date, when an email arrived, one line long. The mother had decided to parent. Rachel felt something in her go silent. She couldn’t step into the nursery. The tiny bows, the framed ultrasound, the perfect pillow with a pink star all felt like a goodbye she hadn’t prepared for. Months later, her husband booked a beach getaway to help them breathe again. On May 14, 2019, sitting together after dinner, they finally said out loud what they had lost and still hoped for. He took her hands and said, “Let’s wait. I think God will put a child in our lives when we least expect it.” They made a pact to stop pushing and trust the timing.
Two days later, they flew home. Within hours of landing, they heard about a woman in the hospital with a newborn boy, looking for an adoptive family. They went to meet her. She was strong and honest about her story and what she wanted for her son. A nurse wheeled in a tiny boy. They called him AJ. The moment Rachel held him, she knew. Then came the detail that stilled them both: AJ had been born on May 14, the night they had promised to wait. The woman asked them to raise her son. They said yes with full hearts.
Their family is three boys strong: two who came through foster care and now share their last name, and the youngest who joined them through adoption. The house is loud and bright. The boys are kind, brave, and loved beyond measure. Looking back, Rachel remembers the bathroom floors, the quiet ache of rejection, the nursery she couldn’t enter, and the day hope surprised her at a hospital door. She also sees how every twist brought them here. People often reach out to share their own stories of infertility, foster care, and adoption. Some say they are considering opening their homes because of what they’ve watched her family walk through.
That may be the most unexpected gift of all. Rachel believes plans rarely unfold as we sketch them, but the new picture is sometimes better than anything we imagined. The waiting, the no’s, and the detours were not wasted. They were a path. She would do it all again for these three boys.
