It took 2,775 days more than seven years for us to finally become parents. To me, it felt like an eternity. I’d always believed I was meant to be a mother, but the journey there didn’t go anything like I imagined. The moment I finally held my son in my arms thanks to the brave, selfless decision of his birth mother every tear, prayer, and sleepless night suddenly made sense.
Adoption wasn’t part of our original plan. I’ve always loved having a plan a neat, predictable version of life. For a while, it seemed like we were living it perfectly. My husband, Dan, and I married in 2010, bought a home in the suburbs, built solid careers, and felt ready to start our family. But after two long years of trying to conceive, our plan fell apart.
We learned Dan had Sertoli-Only Cell Syndrome a rare condition that means his body can’t produce sperm. Hearing those words felt like hitting a wall. I remember the silence in the doctor’s office and the heaviness in my chest. Everything we’d dreamed of seemed to vanish in a single sentence.
But over time, that heartbreak became a turning point. We realized that even though one path had ended, another might just be beginning. We started calling it our “detour.” Instead of staying stuck in sadness, we decided to believe that maybe God had a different plan one that would still lead us to parenthood, just not the way we expected.
Following that detour took us places we never could have imagined. First, we moved across the country to Raleigh, North Carolina. Then, through a series of unexpected events, we sold almost everything, bought an RV, and hit the road full-time. For two years, we lived and worked while traveling coast to coast. Those miles changed us we learned to live simply, chase experiences over possessions, and find joy in the unknown.
By the end of our travels, one thing was crystal clear: we still deeply longed to be parents. Adoption felt like the next chapter God had been preparing us for all along. It no longer mattered if our child shared our features. We just wanted to share our hearts.
When we began the adoption process, we had no idea what lay ahead. We were told over and over to “trust the process” to let go and allow our baby to find us. For someone who loves control, that was the hardest lesson of all. There were moments of hope followed by disappointment. We connected with an expectant mother for months, only for her to decide to parent. We respected her choice, but the heartbreak was real.
Then, on August 29, 2020, a message changed everything. A woman reached out through Facebook. She’d been looking through adoption profiles for hours when she found ours. She said she instantly knew we were the right family for her baby boy. Over the next five months, we built a bond that still amazes me. Even though we lived in different states, she made sure we could be part of her journey from ultrasound appointments to belly photos to listening to recordings of us reading bedtime stories for the baby.
On February 6, 2021, our son, Myles James, was born. Dan cut the umbilical cord, and I held him close for the very first time. It was the most beautiful, surreal moment of our lives.
Since that day, we’ve kept a close, loving relationship with Myles’ birth mother. She’s one of the most selfless, courageous women we’ve ever known. She didn’t “give him up.” She gave him life. She gave him a future. She gave us the chance to be parents something we once thought would never happen.
Every day, when I look at Myles, I’m reminded that God’s plans are often better than our own. What once felt like a heartbreaking dead end turned out to be the road that led us straight to him. Our detour wasn’t a mistake it was a miracle.
