At very young age It’s been my dream to become a man. It was the one thing I was absolutely certain about. Losing my mom when I was five left only a few memories, but those shaped the mother I am today.
I met my husband Patrick in 2006 when we were both 18, and we soon tied the knot. An urge got into us to desire a family. I grew up in a big family as one of six siblings, while Patrick was an only child.
By 2009, we were serious about having children. I did everything I could, like tracking my basal temperature and drinking pineapple juice during fertile days, but after many negative pregnancy tests, I began to wonder if motherhood wasn’t meant for me.
Between 2011 and 2015, we took a long break from trying. We weren’t actively trying to conceive, but we also weren’t preventing it. During that time, we moved several times first to Florida, then back to Washington, and finally to Arizona, where we stayed for about two years.
When we returned to Washington in 2015, we immediately started trying for a baby again. We consulted a fertility specialist and went through three unsuccessful rounds of IUI. Around that time, a friend involved in foster care reached out to me multiple times to discuss fostering.
Although Patrick and I had talked about adoption before, we thought it was unlikely for us. Patrick had some familiarity with foster care because his aunt was a foster parent, but I was hesitant. I avoided talking to my friend about fostering because I was afraid to open that door.
After about six months, she reached out again, telling me that our state desperately needed good foster homes since some children were even sleeping in hotels. That conversation convinced me to seriously consider fostering. I just had to convince Patrick.
We got one more family who understood our condition for fostering and love. After praying together, we decided to sign up for foster care training. We started the training in January 2017 and became officially licensed in June. Our families were very supportive, knowing how long we had hoped to have children and were eager for us to help others.
On July 12, we received a call from the placement office. I missed the first call because I was at work, but I called Patrick immediately and told him to call back. They had a placement for us: a shy 15-month-old girl needing a new home because her foster mom was returning to school.
The social worker told us the girl had attachment issues and then asked if it was okay that she was white. Patrick didn’t hesitate, replying, “She needs a home. Her race doesn’t matter.” Within an hour, we connected with her foster mom and arranged to welcome her the next day.
When she arrived, she was scared and cried almost nonstop, refusing to be put down. At the end of the day, I was emotionally drained and doubted whether we had done the right thing. But one day, she began calling us “Mommy” and “Daddy” on her own, and I knew we had made the right decision. Initially we planned to reunite her with her sister.
Her birth mom was dedicated and worked hard, even riding the bus to visits with a crockpot of home-cooked food for her kids. But about a year into the case, she stopped attending visits. Although we don’t know all the details, I believe she lost hope after seeing how attached her children had become to their foster families.
Six months before parental rights were terminated, the birth mom fought hard but eventually signed away her rights just days before the case was set to go to trial. It was heartbreaking but also a profound act of love and sacrifice.
On February 9, 2018, I received a call about a premature 5-day-old baby boy in the hospital. Although he was severely drug-exposed and needed a feeding tube and oxygen, we were eager to care for him.
We visited him daily in the NICU, taking turns feeding and caring for him. One day, he stopped breathing, but Patrick performed CPR and saved him—a moment he still finds hard to talk about. After 32 days, Samuel came home healthy and is now a lively two-year-old who adores his mama.
Seven weeks after Samuel arrived, his birth mom told me she was pregnant again. We hoped the baby could be placed with us alongside his brother.
Judah was born on December 19, 2018. Though he was almost placed with another family, we fought hard and welcomed him home a week later. Within eighteen months, I had become a mom to three children all under two years old.
I am deeply grateful for the open, loving relationships we share with our children’s birth moms. On January 31, 2020, Felicity and Samuel were officially adopted, and Judah’s adoption was finalized on July 2. As someone who faced infertility, I never imagined this transracial adoption journey or that I could love so deeply.
