A Heart That Always Wanted to Mother
For as long as I can remember, I dreamed of being a mom. That dream grew even stronger after losing my own mother at just five years old. I held onto those few precious memories of her — the softness of her voice, the warmth of her presence — and promised myself that one day, I’d give that same love to my own children.
When I met Patrick in 2006, something clicked. We got married quickly and shared one unshakable hope: building a big, noisy, love-filled family. I’m one of six kids, he’s an only child, but our hearts were aligned from the start.
But wanting a family and growing one are two very different things.
Years of negative pregnancy tests chipped away at me. I charted temperatures, tracked cycles, drank pineapple juice — anything with even a whisper of hope attached to it. After a while, I wondered if motherhood simply wasn’t meant for me.
Life moved us between states, and from 2011 to 2015 we drifted into a quiet acceptance — not trying, not preventing, just existing. When we finally sought fertility treatment, three rounds of IUI failed. It was heartbreaking.
Then one day, a friend gently nudged open a door I’d kept tightly shut: foster care.
I was terrified. I didn’t understand the system. I worried I couldn’t handle the heartbreak.
But when she told me children were sleeping in hotel rooms because there weren’t enough safe homes… something inside me shifted.
By June 2017, we were licensed foster parents.
I didn’t know it yet, but our lives were about to transform forever.
The Girl Who Made Us Parents
On July 12, the phone rang. A 15-month-old girl needed a new placement. The social worker described her as shy, struggling with attachment.
Then she paused and said, “She’s white… is that okay?”
Patrick didn’t skip a beat. “She needs a home. Her race doesn’t matter.”
The next day, Felicity walked through our door — scared, crying, clinging to me as though the ground beneath her was crumbling.
I was emotional, overwhelmed, terrified I’d made a mistake.
Then one day, all on her own, she called us “Mommy” and “Daddy.”
And in that moment, every doubt melted.
Her biological mother tried so hard at first. I admired her strength — the way she rode the bus carrying a crockpot so her kids could have a warm meal during visits. But eventually, she stopped showing up. I don’t know her story, but I believe she loved her kids deeply and didn’t want to pull them away from the stability they’d found.
Just days before trial, she made the unimaginable choice to relinquish her rights.
A choice rooted in love, not loss.
I still honor her bravery every single day.
Two Little Boys Who Completed Our Family
Nine months later, we opened our license again — and got the call that would change everything.
A premature 5-day-old baby boy in the NICU needed a home.
He had been born severely drug-exposed, on oxygen and a feeding tube.
Did we still want him?
Of course we did.
Every day, we sat by his little NICU bed, praying, hoping, loving him before we even knew his whole story. One day, he stopped breathing in Patrick’s arms — and my husband saved his life with CPR. He still can’t talk about that moment without his voice breaking.
Samuel stayed 32 days in the NICU before coming home. Seven weeks later, we learned his biological mother was pregnant again — and she told me first.
We prayed her new baby would join our family too.
When Judah was born, we fought hard to keep the brothers together. Seven days later, he was home with us.
And just like that, within 18 months, I became a mom to three babies under two years old.
It was beautiful, chaotic, exhausting… and absolutely right.
A Transracial Family Built on Love, Not Matching Skin
I never imagined my motherhood journey would look like this — three children, three stories, three beginnings. None sharing my blood, all sharing my heart.
Our family doesn’t “match” in the traditional sense. People stare sometimes. We talk openly about race. We honor where our children came from. And we love boldly, loudly, wholly.
Because family isn’t built from genetics.
Family is built from showing up, loving fiercely, and choosing each other every single day.
On January 31, 2020, Felicity and Samuel were adopted.
On July 2, 2020, Judah officially became ours too.
Their adoptions weren’t just legal milestones — they were love stories sealed forever.
Sharing Our Story to Light the Way for Others
Our first three placements became our forever children — something incredibly rare in the foster system. We never set out to adopt. We only wanted to offer love where it was needed.
But sometimes love has a way of circling back as something even bigger.
We don’t know what the future holds for our foster journey — but right now, we’re savoring this chapter. And soon, Patrick and I will be starting a podcast to share what we’ve learned about foster care, transracial adoption, and building family in untraditional ways.
Because families like ours might be uncommon —
but we are here.
We are thriving.
And we are proof that love doesn’t need matching skin or shared DNA to build something beautiful.
