Our road to parenthood was not a simple path. It was long, winding, and full of unexpected turns. There were times we couldn’t even see the finish line, but faith and patience carried us through. Today, we’re blessed with four beautiful children, and every one of them is a living reminder that perseverance and purpose can turn pain into something extraordinary.
I grew up in Louisiana in a family of ten siblings. In our home, love was loud and constant. My parents showed us what it meant to put family first. My mom made raising ten children look easy, even though she once told me that if she could do it again, she would have gone to college. As a young Black woman in rural Louisiana, that dream wasn’t something many women got to chase. She supported my father through medical school instead, and though she had no regrets, she wanted more opportunities for her daughters.
So I did what she couldn’t. I went to college, then medical school at twenty three. Becoming a doctor was hard enough, but dating during that time was nearly impossible. After yet another bad date, I told my sister I didn’t think I’d ever find the right person. The next day, I met Colin. He wasn’t my “type,” but something about him felt different. He was kind, grounded, and made me feel seen. I fell in love quickly, and even when we had to move to different cities for our medical training, we stayed strong.
When Hurricane Katrina hit, we were apart again, he was in Dallas, I was sent to Chicago, then Charleston. Somehow, through all the distance, our love deepened. We got engaged while living miles apart and finally married once we both completed our programs. At thirty one, we were finally in the same city, building our careers and ready to start a family.
I had spent years helping other women become mothers as an OB/GYN, so I thought getting pregnant would come easily. But month after month, the tests were negative. After a year of trying, I went to see a fertility specialist. The results were crushing: I had a diminished ovarian reserve, fibroids, and later, endometriosis. We tried everything medication, inseminations, IVF—but nothing worked. I felt broken. I remember crying to my mother, saying, “Why did you have me if I can’t do the one thing that makes me a woman?”
Those were dark days. But Colin, my family, and my faith never gave up on me, even when I started to give up on myself. We decided to try embryo banking, going through multiple rounds to save viable embryos. The process was exhausting, and after three cycles, we only had two embryos frozen. My body and spirit were both tired.
Then, just as I began to lose hope, adoption stories started appearing everywhere patients, friends, even strangers. It felt like God was whispering a new direction for our lives. Colin and I prayed long and hard before beginning the adoption process. We spent months doing paperwork, home visits, and background checks. Around that time, I turned thirty five and, for peace of mind, decided to try one last fertility treatment. My doctor didn’t think it would work, but we went ahead anyway.
Two weeks later, I got a call. The test was positive. I was pregnant. A miracle. A week after that, our adoption agency called, we had been matched with a birth mother expecting a baby boy. We were going to have two sons just months apart.
But life had another turn waiting for us. The birth mother decided to keep her baby after giving birth. I was heartbroken. Even though I was pregnant, losing that child we had already prepared for felt like losing a piece of our hearts.
Not long after, we welcomed our first son, and two years later, our twins born from the two embryos we had frozen. Our home was full, our hearts fuller. Yet, something still felt incomplete. I told Colin on my fortieth birthday that I felt another child was meant to be ours. He agreed.
We returned to the adoption agency and began again, even though we were scared of being hurt once more. Months passed with no news, and we almost gave up. Then the phone rang. A young woman expecting a baby girl had chosen us. From the moment we met her, I felt peace. When our daughter was born, I couldn’t hold back my tears. Because of COVID, we couldn’t be in the delivery room, but meeting her afterward was one of the most powerful moments of my life.
Looking back, none of our children came to us the way we imagined. But each one came exactly how they were meant to. The path was hard, filled with heartbreak, surgeries, and waiting but also filled with grace and love.
Now, as we watch our four children laugh and play, I understand why the road was so long and difficult. Every turn prepared us for this for them.
Our journey wasn’t easy, but it was purposeful. And every single bit of it was worth it.
