Adoption is often painted as a neat little bow on a complicated story. But for the McCrossen family, it was anything but tidy. It was messy, painful, expensive, and at times, heartbreaking. And yet, standing on the other side, they’ll tell anyone who asks: adoption is beautiful.
A year before their son came home, they had already lived through a failed adoption. A birth mom had reached out, and together they had gone through the process. They were there when the baby was born. They watched his first bath, they cuddled him, they brought him home. For six weeks, he was theirs in every way that mattered. And then, with the stroke of a pen, he wasn’t. The birth mom chose to parent, and just like that, the McCrossens had to pack away bottles and clothes and walk through their house listening to the silence where a baby once cried.
The loss was brutal. Their nine-year-old son, Maddex, had been the most invested of all. He rubbed his baby brother’s feet in the morning, helped with bottles, dreamed out loud about what they would do together when he got older. Losing that little boy broke him in ways his parents struggled to explain. The family took a trip out of town to breathe, reset, and remember they were still a family without the baby.
Back home, they turned to doctors for answers about why pregnancy wasn’t happening. It turned out the issue wasn’t what they thought. Scar tissue from Jenae’s C-section years earlier was blocking the possibility. Fertility treatments were an option, but adoption had already planted itself in their hearts. When they returned to the Gladney Center for Adoption in Fort Worth, they sat in the truck afterward just staring at each other. They both knew. This was where they were meant to be. Adoption was the path they were meant to take.
The process wasn’t easy. The price tag of adoption was overwhelming. So they did what families do when the dream is bigger than the budget—they got creative. Owning a T-shirt printing company turned out to be a blessing. Jenae designed a shirt with a buffalo and the words “oh, give me a home”, along with the Bible verse “For this child I have prayed.” It didn’t scream adoption, but it carried meaning. They sold thousands, raising the money that would bring their son home.
They became a waiting family, saying yes every time their profile was asked to be shown. Birth moms chose other families again and again. Each no stung, but they cheered anyway. They believed every child ends up where they’re meant to be. Then the phone call came. A baby boy was already born. His birth mom wanted to meet them. Lunch turned into laughter, nervous smiles, and honest conversation. She was young and full of potential, and they couldn’t help but admire her strength.
When placement day arrived, they met the transitional family who had cared for the baby while legal paperwork moved through the system. And then, the door opened. The birth mom walked in holding her son. Their son. The moment was both beautiful and unbearable. They held him, fed him, kissed his cheeks. Their nine-year-old, wide-eyed, asked question after question. When he realized the birth mom would be handing his baby brother to them, his voice wavered. “Won’t she be sad?” he asked quietly.
Yes. She was sad. The room was thick with it, joy and grief braided together. Adoption is beautiful, but it is never without pain. They promised the birth mom this wasn’t goodbye, only see you soon. Two visits a year, open arms, and an open heart. When she gave her son one last kiss and walked out, the adoptive father broke. He couldn’t imagine the strength it took to leave that room.
Now, the McCrossens are home. A family of four, figuring out bottles and nap schedules, leaning on their village of support. They talk often about the gift they’ve been given, the sacrifice that made it possible, and the boy who asked the truest question of all: Won’t she be sad? Yes, she was. And that’s why adoption, in all its heartbreak and beauty, will never stop being a miracle.
