I will always remember the stares I received while strolling down the street with a big pregnant belly and an infant secured to my chest. I never intended this for myself but there I was, ready to care for two Babies born just three months apart.
My partner and I have brought up three kids two biological and one we adopted from the foster system. We sensed a pull to foster once more, though worries about raising four children surfaced. Then, right after we finished our foster care supplies and we found that I was pregnant.
Plans changed. We celebrate in this pregnancy and believed that the opportunity for adoption was no longer available. Then a call arrived: a home was needed for a newborn baby girl. I was half a year into my pregnancy. We were informed that such locations rarely occur. Weeks later, they reached out once more no one else had agreed. Can we travel for three hours to get her?
It seemed insane. We would have five children. We weren’t sure it was a good idea but we agreed. Absolutely, to a baby who deserved someone excited to take her home.
As soon as I embraced her, I realized we had sufficient. She belonged to us in every sense except legally.
Caring for two infants was challenging but I recall joy, affection, and wonder. Then the phone call arrived: she could be placed with a relative far away. In spite of all the warning signs, the system indicated we had no opportunity.
We begged social workers and prayed during the holidays. And then, a wonder happened: the relative withdrew. At 10 months of age, we welcomed our daughter into our family.
Today, almost two years later, she’s thriving intelligent, daring, endlessly nosy. She gestures like Miss America, chats endlessly, and brightens every space she steps into.
She is more than any label, more than the uncertainty she came from. She is ours.
And those two babies, born just three months apart? They are best friends. They laugh in harmony, hold hands, and sing songs in a language only they understand.
Our yes wasn’t easy, but it was everything.
