I share our story not to receive accolades or praise, but in hopes of raising awareness and inspiring even one person to step in and support children in need. Because if it changes just one life, every struggle, every heartache, is worth it.
I never imagined I would have a large family, let alone foster and adopt children. But life has a way of rewriting your plans when the right person comes along. My husband, Aaron, and I began our family quickly—four children in four years. It was an incredible blessing, but it also brought chaos. That chaos intensified when we discovered that our second child had multiple medical issues shortly after birth. Overnight, we were thrust into a world of hospitals, doctors, specialists, and surgeries—a world we knew nothing about, yet had to learn to navigate with urgency.
At the time, we were barely keeping our heads above water as parents. Long hospital stays and scarce answers forced us to become advocates for our child. We switched doctors, asked difficult questions, and leaned heavily on family and friends for support. Slowly, what once felt like an overwhelming crisis became part of our family’s “normal.” As our children grew, so did our desire to find a spiritual home that aligned with our family. The first church service we attended focused on fostering and adoption—and it felt as if it were meant just for us. The more we learned, the more we felt a calling to step into this world.
We fostered for six years. At first, we naively believed our efforts would be met with gratitude and clear outcomes. Instead, we faced a broken system: overworked, indifferent CPS workers, parents who saw us as the enemy, and false allegations that shook us to our core. I’ll never forget the call informing me that a mother had plastered Band-Aids on her child, taken pictures, and accused our family of neglect. I felt sick to my stomach—blindsided by someone willing to lie about our home and our love.
We were also misled by promises of adoption, only to have plans change at the last minute. We learned that the legal system often gives birth parents multiple chances, whether earned or not. But through it all, we focused on what we could control: our home, our actions, and most importantly, the love and stability we provided for each child. And in those moments—the laughter, milestones, and quiet victories—the chaos faded. Watching children thrive against the odds, forming attachments and learning to love, enriched our own family in ways we couldn’t have imagined.
One of the most beautiful surprises was seeing our children’s love and compassion for foster siblings. They welcomed each child as if they had always been part of our family. Over six years, we fostered nine children and were blessed to adopt two. Corbin was our first adoption. His journey began like so many CPS cases: a roller coaster. He came to us straight from the NICU after a three-week stay for drug withdrawal. Having previously fostered his older brother, we knew Corbin was likely an adoption placement, since his mother had already lost five other children. The brother we fostered had been adopted by a family out of state along with a half-sister, and we assumed Corbin might go the same way.
Then came the call that nearly broke me: CPS had contacted that family about adopting Corbin—and they were interested. My heart sank. For months, we sent updates and photos, hoping the family would change their mind. When they did, CPS asked if we wanted to adopt him. We said yes immediately.
At the same time, another foster child—a little girl we had cared for since she was just two days old—faced her own challenges. Initially, we were told her parents had no rights and that adoption was imminent. But her case dragged on for three years, with repeated errors from CPS and changes in judges. In the end, her father fought tirelessly and regained custody. Walking out of court the day she left, he thanked us, saying, “You’re the only one I ever felt was on my side.” I teared up. Reunification is always the goal, but letting go of a child you’ve loved as your own is heartbreak beyond words.
Shortly after, we learned of a medically complex infant named Jesus in need of a forever home. Born missing his frontal lobe and prone to severe spasms, doctors expected he might not survive. At his first doctor appointment, the physician laid out the harsh reality bluntly, trying to dissuade us from adopting him. But we knew what our family needed—and it was him. With no biological parents involved, we were able to adopt Jesus, and he became a cherished part of our family. Life with him is challenging. His medical needs have grown, requiring equipment, nurses, and care we never imagined. Yet loving Jesus and meeting these challenges has strengthened our family in ways words cannot capture.
Looking back, this journey has shown us the extraordinary resilience of children, the transformative power of love, and the necessity of faith. So much of fostering is out of your hands; the only anchor is faith, hope, and the belief that love can prevail. Through every hospital stay, court case, and sleepless night, our family has grown stronger—and so has our understanding of what it truly means to trust, serve, and love unconditionally.
