Our Adoption Story

For many couples, their adoption story starts long before their actual paperwork. The same is true for our family. I have had the desire to adopt for as long as I can remember. I had multiple friends throughout the years who were adopted, most internationally. While Trent wouldn't say he had a burning desire to adopt, he has never been opposed to it, and has in fact been quite open to the idea of growing our family in this way.

After Magdalena was born, with the complications she had (Intrauterine Growth Restricted, preemie, emergency Cesarean section, a vertical cut on the uterus, a 6-day NICU stay) we started seriously talking about adoption. We knew we wanted more children, and having another biological child anytime soon was suddenly scratched. Maggie was born in August 2010.  By May, 2011, we were researching agencies and countries.

There weren't many countries we qualified for due to our ages (I was 26 and Trent was 28, most countries require you to be 30 years old) or the fact that we already had three children, or our income. We were qualified to adopt from Ethiopia and felt our hearts being drawn toward this African country.

We attended information sessions and filed a preliminary application. We were so excited to have been accepted into the Ethiopia program. Unfortunately, both Trent and I were not feeling comfortable with our agency. There were multiple things, mainly dealing with communication (or lack thereof) and a particular worker who misplaced paperwork multiple times. When handling large stacks of papers we really did not feel comfortable proceeding. We took time to pray before moving on to the next step. I distinctly remember sitting on the porch of our little city house after we had put the kids to bed. We had felt so sure that we were stepping out in faith to do this hard thing (mainly financially, but also trusting that we would have the space for a fourth child in our small home), only to have hit this road block. We were unsure whether this was the type of stumbling block that we were meant to push past and persevere through, or if it was the kind intended to make us come to a full stop. After much prayer, both Trent and I felt it was God's way of closing the door on international adoption for the time being. I was crushed.

Several months later we were still praying for guidance, but mostly we were enjoying life. I was being as intentionally grateful for my three girls as possible. Around November 2011 multiple people starting speaking into our lives regarding foster care. It was something I never thought much about. We still had the problem of a very small house. We started putting some feelers out to our local Children and Youth agency to learn more.

Late December we got a phone call from an older lady at church, notifying us of a nice big farm house in the country for rent. When she explained where it was located I nearly cried. It was the house I grew up in and had loved dearly. After talking with the owner of the house and learning there was potential that he would subdivide the house and a couple acres off to sell to us eventually we went to look at the house. So many delightful childhood memories were brought back, and we went for it. We moved to a five bedroom farm house in January 2012. Shortly thereafter we began our foster care classes.

Late August 2012, our birth children were 4, 3 and 2, we got a call for a sibling group. A 4-year-old girl (it later turned out she was 3, almost 4) and her 9-month-old brother. We accepted. Thus began the most intense, challenging months of our lives. There were many tears shed, weight lost, and gray hair gained. Our foster daughter had such intense struggles, and we were at a loss to help her. As we tried to help her, we only received push back from agencies with new, young caseworkers. We were told that "not every child in foster care is in therapy" and repeatedly told by multiple people "you're doing a good job with her". I didn't want to be told I was doing a good job. I wanted help. I wanted her to get help for her anger, for her inability to attach to people, for her manipulation, for her self-harming. Instead I was told, "you're doing a good job." We did have some good days, but there were many many bad days. At the time, I described her behavior as "death by a million pin-pricks". It was never one huge thing that she did, but the million times a day she did little things.

After five intense months, she left our home to go to another foster home. It was the hardest decision we had ever made. Her little brother, now a delightful, joy-filled, chubby 14-month old, had thrived in our care. As his sister spiraled out of control, he blossomed in the love of our three biological daughters. We were forever grateful he got to stay with us until the court was to decide whether he should move to the same foster home as her, or if he would stay with us.

It was a joyful month with our foster son. It was a month of healing for our family. He was doted on and loved and read to and snuggled like never before. He would run to the door when Trent got home, yell, "Daddddyyyyyy!" and run into his arms. Then court day came. The judge decided that since they are siblings they should remain together. Our hearts were crushed. An hour later Children and Youth came to get him. This boy we loved so hard and so well for six months was taken from my arms. He was placed in the back seat of the caseworker's car. I'll never forget him looking out the window at me. Confused. It was the last time we saw him.

The month after he left was so extremely painful. I closed his bedroom door. I couldn't walk past that room with the door open to see his empty crib. I washed all his blankets so I wouldn't have to smell his baby smell, then immediately regretted that I had washed them, knowing I would never again have that to help me remember him. The girls begged for a sibling they could keep. One they wouldn't have to give back.

Three months after he left I ran into the kids new foster mom (we had met several times at visits with the kids' birth mother). She said the kids were doing well. Our foster daughter was finally able to get some counseling and therapy. She said our foster son cried a lot at first but was starting to do better. As hard as it was to hear that he cried, it was also a relief. He had formed an attachment. Attachments can be made again, as hard as it is to break them. They were being loved and cared for. It had to be enough for me. In reality, it wasn't about me, it was about the children.

Several months after they left, we bought a house and moved away from the farmhouse. The day we signed papers on the house we found out we were pregnant with our fourth child.

December 2013, Caroline was born. Another growth restricted baby, another C-section, another preemie, another NICU stay, this time 10 days. She was lovely and precious and wonderful.

Around her one year birthday I felt myself wanting another child. Another biological child probably wasn't the best option. I started researching international adoption agencies and countries. I was 29, not yet old enough for the magical age 30 that many countries require. I talked with Trent. It was a resounding, "No." I was crushed. I cried for several days.

Life moved on and we celebrated our 10th anniversary a couple months early, during the fall of 2015. We talked adoption. This time Trent was more open to the idea, but still unsure. That fall Trent went hunting. When he came home after spending some time away, praying in the woods, he felt adoption was something we should pursue.

December 2015, Caroline turned two. We knew an adoption would likely take two years, so wanted her to be about two when we started so that she would be close to four when we had to travel out of the country and leave her and her sisters behind.

After much prayer, we filed our application to adopt a little girl from China on January 4, 2016. From there things have moved relatively quickly with only a few paperwork hiccups along the way. Our dossier went to China on June 24, 2016. We are still waiting for that to be Logged In.

And now, we wait for our referral. Our story is not finished. We are grateful to be this far. Though it certainly hasn't been easy, we believe that God has led us through all these years to prepare us more fully for our daughter. Thank you all for following along as we wait for our fifth daughter to come home!