My husband Terrell and I are parents to five wonderful children, though we didn’t grow our family in the traditional way. We built ours through foster care.
I had dreamed of adoption since I was young. In my early twenties, I became a foster parent, but by the time Terrell and I got married in 2016, my license had expired. One day, he turned to me and said, “What if we got licensed together and adopted from foster care?”
That simple question changed everything.
In 2019, we adopted two of our foster children, Hallie and Jayden. On adoption day, the lawyer smiled and said, “See you in a few years when you come back for another.” We both laughed and said, “No way, this is it!” At that point, I already had two children from my previous marriage. Two boys, two girls, it felt complete.
But life has a funny way of surprising you.
After Hallie and Jayden’s adoption, we decided to continue fostering, not necessarily to adopt again but to help however we could. Every child who came through our door was loved deeply, even if only for a short time. In early 2020, right before the pandemic hit, we took in a baby boy. With the world shutting down, we spent all our time at home bonding with him. I told myself not to get too attached, but it was impossible. When he left at eight months old to reunite with his family, my heart broke a little. The house felt quiet, too quiet.
Then, one October afternoon, just after Terrell’s birthday, my phone rang. It was Hallie’s biological grandmother. She told us her daughter had given birth to another baby girl who was now in foster care a few hours away. “Would you be willing to take her?” she asked. My heart skipped a beat. Without hesitation, we said yes. We made every call we needed to, determined to bring that little girl home to be with her sister.
When she finally arrived, our house came alive again. Hallie was practically bouncing off the walls, running to the window every few minutes asking, “Is my baby sister here yet?” The caseworker walked in carrying the tiniest baby I’d ever seen, four pounds of pure miracle. She had big blue eyes, expressive little eyebrows, and a face that instantly melted us all. We named her Ava.
From the first night, Hallie refused to sleep anywhere but beside her sister’s crib. “My sissy wants me,” she’d say. And from then on, they were inseparable. If one went somewhere, the other followed. The bond they share is something I can’t explain, it’s just beautiful.
Still, I worried every day that Ava might have to leave us. She had been born early and with health complications. We prayed that her case would lead to adoption, that she would stay where she belonged, with her sister and with us. Months passed, full of appointments and checkups. Slowly, she began to thrive. Every test came back better than expected. Doctors called her progress a miracle. I called it grace.
Then one morning, I got a text from our caseworker: “Both parents’ rights have been terminated. She’s cleared for adoption.” I cried right there in the kitchen.
On June 11, 2021, after 286 days in foster care, Ava became ours forever. She wore the same dress Hallie had worn on her own adoption day. Even our lawyer remembered us and said with a grin, “Told you I’d see you again.”
Ava is the piece of our family we didn’t know was missing. She was meant to be here.
There are so many children waiting for a safe place to land and often, brothers and sisters who just want to stay together. If you’ve ever felt the pull toward adoption or foster care, listen to it. You never know whose life or heart might be waiting for yours.
