One warm November afternoon, my husband and I were painting our kitchen when his phone rang. The number was unfamiliar. He answered it, went quiet, and then handed it to me. It was the call we had been waiting for a baby girl had just been born. The social worker asked if we were still open to adoption. Two hours later, we found out the baby’s birth mother had chosen us to be her parents.
We rushed to get ready packing, making calls, and preparing for the biggest moment of our lives. A few days later, we drove to Kansas City and followed our social worker to the home where the baby was staying. When the door opened, a kind woman smiled and handed me the baby, saying, “she is hungry and poppy, Mommy!” And suddenly, I was a mom.
About six months later, I was shopping at Target when two Black women approached me. One gently told me that my daughter’s hair looked dry. I felt embarrassed at first, but then they said, “Let us help.” They showed me which hair and skin products to use. I was so thankful. That moment taught me something important — we could not do this alone. We needed a village, especially as white parents raising a Black child.
Since then, many people have come into our lives and helped us raise our kids with love and understanding. Miss Rachel started braiding my daughters’ hair. Jazmine became a mentor and part of our family, helping us learn how to parent better. Later on, Bria came into our lives and carried on that love and support.
Our son had sensory struggles with haircuts. That is when we met Roo, a kind barber and pastor, who worked with him gently over time until he felt safe.
Then, in the middle of all this, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. We had just welcomed our fourth child. We found a kind young nanny from Nigeria who cared for our kids while I recovered. She was a gift during a hard time.
And then there was Markia, who ran a local Black beauty store. She grew close to me and my kids, becoming a true friend. Losing her so suddenly shattered our hearts.
Thinking back, it all started with two women at Target.
But we have been carried by a village. And we are forever grateful.
