I was 19 when I found out I was pregnant. The same day I learned I was expecting was the day my boyfriend's daughter—his child with another woman—was born. In that moment, I knew I wouldn’t be raising my baby. He couldn’t even support the daughter he already had, let alone another child.
I started searching for adoptive families through various agencies, but I couldn’t find a couple I truly connected with. After a week of looking and finding no one who felt right, I gave up. But something in me wouldn’t let it go. A week later, I tried again and eventually matched with a couple in Virginia. After three weeks of getting to know them, they told me they had chosen another birth mother whose due date was sooner. That crushed me. I gave up again and surrendered it to God.
I told myself: If it's Your will, Lord, I will raise this child. But if You have a family for him, open my heart and show me. So I stopped searching and left it in God’s hands.
About three months later, I had started accepting that I was going to be a mom, and I was preparing myself for that reality. But God had a different plan.
One Sunday morning in January, I suddenly woke up from a deep sleep at 12:11 a.m. with an urge to try one more time. I got online and spent nearly three hours combing through profiles from an adoption agency in California.. I reached the last page of parent profiles and told myself, If I don’t find someone I absolutely adore here, I am going to be a parent.
And then—I found them.
The last couple on the last page were the ones. I just knew they were the one. His birth father and I flew to meet them, and the moment we shook hands, we both felt it. They were exactly like us—just older versions. Even the dads looked alike. It was incredible.
Through the agency, I made it clear that I wanted to see my son at least once a year, and that if he wanted more contact as he grew, I’d be open to it. The adoptive parents were completely on board. So, we planned to take turns visiting one another every year.
Now, 23 years later, the relationship I have with his mom is like sisterhood. And the bond I share with my birth son is beyond words. We talk regularly. He includes me in many of his life decisions. It feels like I still have a son—I just wasn’t the one who raised him.
I won’t say it was easy though. Giving birth to him and spending four days with him in the hospital was one of the hardest, yet most beautiful, times of my life. Leaving without him was heartbreaking and I went down a dark hole for about two years after. But, I can honestly say this has been the most rewarding and meaningful journey I’ve ever experienced.
I could not have chosen better parents for him. God played a huge role in this adoption, and I thank Him every single day for blessing my son with two people who could give him the love, stability, and future I wasn’t able to provide at that time.
It’s been 23 years, and the story just keeps getting more amazing.
God truly is amazing.
