I grew up in a small town in Indiana and met my husband, Ryan, in college, even though we attended different schools. Ryan went to West Point Military Academy, and after graduating, he served in the Army. We got married while he was in Army flight school at Ft. Rucker, Alabama, learning to fly helicopters. After completing flight school, Ryan was stationed in South Korea, and I joined him there. What was supposed to be a one-year assignment turned into three years! We fell in love with Korea—the culture, the people, the food—and during that time, our first child, a daughter, was born. Those years were full of adventure and joy, though being so far from family was incredibly hard.
After Korea, we moved back to Ft. Rucker for a year. During that time, we got pregnant again, but tragically, we lost the baby. The grief was profound, a loss I still feel today. We conceived again and moved to Ft. Hood, Texas, where our second daughter was born. Just five weeks later, Ryan was deployed to Afghanistan. I suddenly found myself alone with a newborn and a two-year-old, navigating motherhood while my husband was in a war zone. He missed the first year of our second daughter’s life, but thankfully, God has been good to us, and they’ve since made up for lost time.
Adoption had always been on my heart, though Ryan wasn’t initially on board. During his deployment, I prayed constantly that his heart would open to it. When he returned, I gently raised the topic again, and to my amazement, he said, “I think I’m open to it.” Timing, however, wasn’t right. I was pregnant, and Ryan was transitioning out of the Army. We moved to Indiana to live with family while waiting to buy a house and start his new job in Ohio. Our third daughter was born there, and shortly after, we moved into our new home. She was a difficult baby with gross motor delays requiring physical and occupational therapy. Then, unexpectedly, I became pregnant again and welcomed our first son nine months later. Life was full—juggling a five-year-old, a three-year-old, a 19-month-old, a newborn, and homeschooling our older two.
When our son turned two, we finally decided to begin the adoption process. Initially, we explored domestic adoption, but families with more than one or two children are often not chosen by birth moms. During my research, I read a blog about a boy in an Eastern European orphanage with mobility issues. He was kept isolated from other children simply because of his needs. My heart broke, and I knew I wanted to help a child who might otherwise never get a chance.
We shifted our focus to international adoption. After reviewing countries, we initially chose Burundi, a small African nation, and began the extensive process: home studies, dossiers, and the dreaded Special Needs Checklist. That checklist was emotionally exhausting, as we grappled with guilt over what needs we could or could not accept. After nine months of paperwork, we sent our dossier in December 2017. But Burundi’s adoption program was slow and inconsistent; during the five months we waited, the matching committee met only once. We were prepared for a long wait—two to four years—but we trusted God’s timing.
While waiting, I reflected on the special needs checklist and realized we were open to many conditions, including Down syndrome. Unfortunately, Burundi did not accept children with special needs, calling them “unadoptable.” My heart ached for these children, and God began leading us toward China. I kept seeing families who had adopted from China, and the Lord kept bringing the country to mind. One day, I saw a photo of a 17-month-old boy with developmental delays and a urological condition on our agency’s Waiting Child page. We had three days to decide if we wanted to move forward. I instantly fell in love, though Ryan hesitated.
The file was seven months old, and switching from Burundi to China meant starting the paperwork all over, with some fees lost. While Ryan studied his Sunday school lesson, I prayed—not for him to change, but for God to speak through His Word. Twenty minutes later, Ryan asked, “So, what’s the next step for adopting him?” I was stunned. He explained that a passage about God showing no partiality convinced him we shouldn’t either.
We threw ourselves into the paperwork, determined to bring our son home as quickly as possible. Delays turned what should have been nine months into a year and a half. Our son, born in December, wasn’t coming home by his second birthday, though we sent him a little package and cake. Finally, in October 2019, we flew to China. Saying goodbye to our four kids at home was heart-wrenching, but the joy of meeting our son, Theodore, for the first time outweighed the fear.
Theo was 2 years and 10 months old and far more delayed than we anticipated. He had severe muscle spasms, couldn’t hold his head up, sit, or stand, and we had no idea how we’d care for him. In our hotel room, we cried together, unsure how to manage this new challenge. But we turned to Philippians 4:13: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Those words became our lifeline as we navigated sleepless nights, endless crying, and the long journey home.
Three days after returning to the U.S., Theo saw an International Adoption Pediatrician, who referred us to six specialists. We learned he has a rare deletion on his ninth chromosome, along with seizures. Medications and therapies have made a remarkable difference, and in just two months, he’s made incredible progress. Theo has blossomed into a joyful, affectionate little boy, adored by his siblings, with the sweetest laugh and cuddles for days.
Our family is complete in a way we never expected. The journey was long, exhausting, and emotional, but I would do it all again in a heartbeat. Theodore has brought a depth of love and joy to our lives that we could have never imagined, and we are endlessly grateful for the little boy who was waiting for us.
