Most couples approach marriage with a simple plan: get married, enjoy life together, and eventually have kids. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that approach. In fact, that’s exactly how we thought our life would unfold.
But God had other plans for us. This is our story.
Twelve years ago, I turned the corner in my office suite and there she was—sitting in a chair, waiting for her internship interview. Kelsey. I was immediately struck by her beauty, but also by her warmth. I introduced myself and we shared a short conversation, polite and light. After we said our goodbyes, I ducked into my office, grabbed my phone, and called my best friend. I couldn’t hide it. I said, “I just met the girl I’m going to marry.”
A month later, she arrived for her first day on the job. Three months after that, we were engaged. And eight months later, in the spring of 2010, we were married.
Our plan was simple: enjoy the first couple of years of marriage before trying to have children. Those two years were magical. We bought our first home, explored new destinations on trips, binged shows, went on dates, and intentionally soaked up every moment of life together.
Then came the time to grow our family. Friends had gotten pregnant quickly, so we assumed it would happen for us, too. But it didn’t.
Months passed. A year passed. Still nothing. With heavy hearts, we scheduled an appointment with a fertility specialist. Tests revealed the harsh reality: getting pregnant would be much harder than we imagined—virtually impossible.
We tried. First, two rounds of IUI, both unsuccessful. Then, we decided to go all in with IVF, thankfully covered by my insurance, knowing it was our best chance. Four rounds. Four heartbreaking failures.
The first failure hit hardest. Our hopes were high. We were confident. I’ll never forget Kelsey’s tearful voice on the phone as she told me the news. I was sad, yes—but more than that, I felt heartbreak for her. My beautiful wife, the woman I loved so deeply, was being denied the chance to become a mom.
As the failures continued, sadness shifted into numbness. “Negative” results became shrugged shoulders. Maybe this wasn’t meant to be. Maybe we were destined to be a married couple without children. Our imagined future—traveling the world, adopting a dog, loving our friends’ children, being the fun aunt and uncle—seemed like all we were meant to have.
Then came the thought of adoption. Several close friends had expanded their families this way, and their encouragement stuck with us. Over the years, we had thought about adopting but life always threw up roadblocks—finances, moving states, timing. Finally, we felt ready. We completed our home study, got approved, and activated our profile.
We were told to expect a wait of up to a year. But on the very first day our profile went live, a birth mother reached out who met all our specifications. We had to decide by the end of the day if we wanted her to see our profile. Unsure at first, Kelsey said, “Why wouldn’t we? We’ve waited this long—besides, she’s probably not going to pick us anyway.”
The very next morning, as I walked into a dentist appointment, my phone rang. It was her. She had chosen us.
After all the negative results, all the doubts and fears, someone—who didn’t even know us—had seen in us the potential to be great parents and had trusted us to raise her child. That affirmation filled us with joy we didn’t think was possible.
The process moved quickly. We started fundraising by selling puzzle pieces to help offset adoption costs—a creative, meaningful effort. Friends, family, coworkers, even strangers, contributed with gifts, encouragement, and prayers. Their generosity reminded us of the incredible human spirit and of the support that surrounds us when you least expect it.
A few months later, we got the call: Bennett’s birth mother was in labor. We jumped out of bed, packed our bags, and raced to the airport. Hours later, we were holding our son for the first time. Eight years of heartbreak, disappointment, and longing vanished the moment we saw his face. Everything about him was perfect.
The last nine months have been a whirlwind of baby adventures—cuddles, giggles, rolling over, and first words. Every day is a new miracle. And though adoption is expensive—averaging about $45,000 in the U.S.—we never imagined we’d do it again.
Then, a few weeks ago, we received an unexpected blessing. Bennett’s birth mom and dad are expecting again this fall, and they asked if we would consider adopting their second child. Without hesitation, we said yes. Siblings deserve to grow up together. We went from struggling to conceive to soon having (almost) Irish twins.
To honor the journey and the generosity that made it possible, we created another puzzle for this adoption. Each donor’s name is written on the back of the puzzle pieces that hang above our children’s beds. One day, we’ll show them and tell the stories behind every gift—how people helped bring them home.
Adoption wasn’t the path we planned, but it became our path—and we wouldn’t change a thing. We’ve learned that it’s not about how children come into your life, but how you love, nurture, and raise them.
As I write this, my heart is overflowing. My beautiful son sleeps peacefully in his crib. Tomorrow morning, he’ll greet me with a huge smile and a giggle. I’ll wrap him in my arms, remind him how loved he is, and glance at the puzzle above his bed, silently thanking every person who helped make this family possible—and the one that’s about to grow.
