Ryan and I met online in the fall of 2013, right before my 30th birthday. It almost felt like fate, because my dating profile was set to “my age or older” and his was set to “his age or younger.” Somehow, we met in the 26 days of the year where we were the same age. From that point on, we were inseparable. Within a year we moved in together, and we spent so many nights dreaming about our future. We talked about marriage, how many kids we wanted, and what our dream home would look like.
In July of 2016, Ryan took me to Pittsburgh for a long weekend. I had gone to college there, so I was excited to show him my favorite places. After a day of sightseeing, he proposed. Four months later, in November, we were married. It all happened quickly, but I always told Ryan I was impatient. I warned him, if he proposed, he needed to be ready for marriage right away.
Years before meeting Ryan, I had been diagnosed with endometriosis. For treatment, I was put on medication that threw me into temporary menopause and later birth control without breaks. I knew there might be challenges when it came to pregnancy, but it was the only way I could find relief from the pain.
After our wedding, I stopped the birth control, and we started trying for a baby. For two years, every test was negative. Eventually, I went to a specialist. Right before we were scheduled for a test, I took a pregnancy test at home and it was positive. I can’t explain the joy we felt after waiting so long.
The doctor had me come in every two weeks. At our eight-week appointment in July 2018, we went to hear the heartbeat, but the baby had stopped growing. I miscarried the child we had prayed for. The pain was unbearable. People told me how common miscarriages are, but that didn’t make it easier. I often still wonder how different our lives would be if that baby were here.
Even before that pregnancy, Ryan and I had started learning about adoption and foster care. A friend recommended Common Sense Adoption and Foster Care Services, so we attended an informational meeting. Traditional adoption felt out of reach because of the cost. But when they explained fostering and how many children needed families, it touched us. After the miscarriage, I couldn’t go through another loss right away. So, we shifted our focus, finished the training and paperwork, and became licensed foster parents.
For two years, we received calls once or twice a month about children needing a home. Sometimes we said yes, but other families were chosen. Sometimes we had to say no, because the visits would have been too difficult to manage. It was discouraging, knowing so many children needed homes, but not getting the call back.
Then in May 2020, right as the pandemic began, we got a call about 2-year-old twins who needed placement. Since we were both working from home, we said yes. Just fifteen minutes later, our caseworker told us the children were coming to us. We rushed to Target, buying two car seats, clothes, toys, food, and diapers. On the way home, we got another call, they weren’t actually twins. They were siblings: a 27-month-old boy and an 11-month-old girl. Without hesitation, we still said yes.
That afternoon, they arrived at our door. Little Vivienne clung to me right away, while Lucca held the caseworker’s hand. After a quick safety check, the caseworker left, and suddenly we were alone with two babies we had just met. It felt like being brand new parents, anxious, scared, but so excited.
The early weeks were exhausting. The kids woke often at night, crying and scared. Ryan even slept on the floor in their room at first to comfort them. During the day, I cried after putting them to bed, feeling overwhelmed and unsure if we could handle it. But we kept reminding ourselves we were caring for them until their parents were ready.
Over time, we found a routine. We got used to visits with their biological parents, though it was emotional for the kids and hard for us too. I tried to build a relationship with their mom and dad, but they didn’t seem interested. I respected their distance, even as I wished for more connection.
We also grew close with their younger sibling’s foster family. We became like extended family, making sure all the kids could grow up together.
After 16 months, the court terminated parental rights. It was bittersweet. I was happy to know these children would stay with us forever, but I grieved for their biological parents too.
Finally, on April 28, 2022, after 417 days in our home, Vivienne and Lucca officially became our children. Surrounded by family and friends, we celebrated in court. Our son even answered the judge’s questions himself, proudly shouting “yes!” when asked if he knew this was forever.
That day was one of the happiest of our lives. Looking back, our journey didn’t unfold the way I once pictured it, but I wouldn’t change it. The two little ones who call me “mama” are better than anything I could have ever dreamed.
