How It All Began: Deciding to Adopt

I decided to adopt children from foster care when I was in elementary school—I’d guess around age 8. I thought, “Why bring more kids into the world if there are kids here without permanent homes?”

I guess I was a budding white savior? We were definitely raised to be do-gooders. 

For most of my life, I thought nurture was the most important part of parenthood. I never cared whether I’d be blood related to my future kids. I wanted the experience of raising them. 

To her amusement, I’d tell my big sister, “I don’t want to do what you have to do to have kids.” She thought I meant sex, but I meant childbirth. That alone was another reason adoption sounded good to me as a kid! 

Growing up white, middle class and with highly educated parents, I had a lot of privileges. I didn’t fail at many things. School came easily to me. What I put my mind to, I’d usually achieve. I’m organized and driven. 

I check boxed my way forward—career, marriage, house. Then it was time. Home study, AdoptUSKids inquires in a spreadsheet, profiles and welcome books, bam: instant family.

The failure wasn’t instant, but I think it was inevitable (no, I don’t mean relinquishment). We were all set up to fail by a flawed system and by the foundation of adoption: loss and trauma. 

Here, I’ll share my journey (no names or locations to protect everyone’s privacy) as well as share resources and invite guest bloggers. 

I know the most important members—and the least heard—of the triad are adoptees and birth parents, so if you'd like to guest blog, message me on social media. 


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