12 years old me when I stumbled upon an article that would leave a permanent mark on me. It told of the violence tearing apart the Congo during the civil war, and the descriptions were horrifying. I read about women and children being tortured, families destroyed, and babies cut from their mothers and left to die. At such a young age, I couldn’t begin to grasp the depth of cruelty in the world, but I knew one thing clearly: I wanted to do something about it. That day, I promised myself that someday I would adopt. I couldn’t save every child, but I could give my love and home to the ones within my reach.
After a long time period I met my future partner and both were thinky about adoption that it was something I spoke of right away. It wasn’t a passing dream but a calling I felt deep inside. After we had three biological children, he suggested we move forward, afraid that if we waited any longer, we might never take the leap. We joined an adoption class at church and began exploring our options. One evening, friends shared their story about fostering. They spoke openly about the challenges: court hearings, emotional strain, difficult behaviors, and the pain of reunification. Nothing they said made fostering sound easy, yet in that moment my husband and I felt the same conviction. We looked at each other, almost in disbelief, and whispered, “This is it.” It was as if God had spoken to us both at the same time, and that clarity gave us the courage to move forward.
Not long after, we received a call in the middle of the night. A little boy named Andrew was in the hospital. His parents were homeless, and he needed somewhere safe to go. Without hesitation, we said yes. By sunrise, he was asleep in our home. For eight months, we cared for him as if he were our own, even though we knew the goal of foster care was reunification. When he returned to his mother, our hearts shattered. We celebrated her progress, but we mourned the loss of a child who had become part of our family.
Life pressed on. We welcomed two more children, Sam and Charlie, and relocated to Seattle. Meanwhile, Andrew’s mother had more children but continued to struggle. Eventually, three of her little ones were removed for neglect. Because we lived in another state, we weren’t considered for placement, but I couldn’t stop caring. I called the caseworker week after week, desperate to know if the children were safe, but no one ever called me back. One Palm Sunday, exhausted from worry, I prayed and asked God for a sign. If I was meant to keep pursuing them, I needed the caseworker to call me. If not, I asked for the strength to let go. The very next day, after months of silence, the phone rang.
We soon learned the children’s foster mom cared for them deeply but could not adopt. The oldest had serious health issues, and Andrew was struggling with behaviors that overwhelmed the home. When I heard they were considering placing him in a group home, my heart broke. Without thinking, I blurted out, “We’ll take him.” That decision set off a whirlwind of challenges between two states with conflicting requirements. Eventually, Texas told us if we truly wanted them, we had to move back. In just one month, we sold our house, packed up our kids, and moved home. On Andrew’s fourth birthday, he and his siblings, Matthew and Hannah, came to live with us for good.
Being their parent was a blessing, but it wasn’t easy. Despite therapy and early interventions, progress was slow. We later discovered all three had Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder, which explained their struggles with memory, learning, and impulse control. It is more common than autism but rarely talked about, and children with it often face lifelong hurdles. Accepting this reality meant reshaping our expectations. We knew independence might not be possible for them, but love and stability certainly were.
The truth is, every day has been hard. There are sweet moments, but the challenges often outweigh them. Yet love has never been about convenience. It is about commitment, about showing up even when life feels overwhelming. Adoption has stretched us, tested us, and at times broken us, but it has also filled our home with a deeper kind of love than I ever imagined. Our story isn’t neat or easy, but it is ours, and every step has been worth it.
