2,775 days. That’s how long we waited to become parents.
Over seven long years, we longed to grow our family. For me, who always felt a deep calling to be a mother, every month that passed felt like an eternity. Yet the moment our son was placed into my arms—thanks to the selfless decision of his birth mother—all the waiting, all the heartache, instantly vanished.
To be honest, adoption was never part of our plan. I’ve always liked having a plan—a perfect plan, in fact. And for a while, life seemed to be following it perfectly. After getting married in 2010, my husband Dan and I began building what we thought of as our ‘American dream.’ We bought a house in the suburbs, grew in our careers, and worked hard to achieve financial stability. The only piece missing was a family. That’s when our perfect plan began to unravel—though now, looking back, I see it was quietly rearranging itself.
After two exhausting years of struggling to conceive, we received the news that would forever change our path: Dan was diagnosed with Sertoli-Only Cell Syndrome, a rare condition that prevents his body from producing the cells necessary for sperm. It felt like the end of the road, a crushing dead end we never anticipated.
In that season of grief, we were desperate for a roadmap, a solution, anything that could restore hope. Slowly, however, we began to see purpose in our pain. We felt as if life had handed us a choice: stay stuck at this dead end—or take a detour, one that might lead us somewhere new. And so we began to embrace the idea of a life detour.
This perspective became a beacon of hope. Though one road had closed, we believed another awaited, full of unexpected opportunities. We imagined a story of resilience we could one day share with others who had faced their own dead ends.
Our detour first led us across the country to Raleigh, North Carolina, a move that would ultimately be instrumental in leading us to adoption. Life continued to redirect us: from Raleigh, we hit the road full-time in an RV, traveling coast to coast while working remotely. For two years, the adventures transformed us. The journeys became more than a list of destinations—they became lessons in life, purpose, and intentional living.
We learned to prioritize experiences over possessions, meaning over expectation, and joy over perfection. Our perspective on life shifted: no longer guided by rigid plans, we embraced simplicity, curiosity, and the desire to make a meaningful impact. We discovered the thrill of living intentionally, of building a life by design rather than by default.
Yet, as our second year of travel drew to a close, a longing deep within us intensified: the desire to become parents. And suddenly, it became clear—adoption was our path. The child we hoped to raise would not need to share our DNA to inherit our love, values, or dreams. We wanted to share our passion for travel, our belief in kindness and compassion, and a foundation that would help them reach their fullest potential. Genetics didn’t matter—love did.
We dove into the adoption process, knowing it would be our greatest adventure yet—but we had no idea how challenging the journey would be. Our lack of exposure to adoption brought fear and uncertainty. We were told again and again to “let go, trust the process, and let your baby find you.” For a planner like me, that was the hardest lesson imaginable.
The first six months were a whirlwind of emotions. Time and again, we were connected with expectant mothers, only to have hopes dashed for reasons beyond our control. One connection lasted three months: we built a close relationship, flew out to meet, spoke daily—but ultimately, she decided to parent. While we respect her deeply and remain grateful for her choice, it was a painful heartbreak along the journey.
Then, on August 29, 2020, everything changed. A message appeared from a birth mother who had spent hours searching for the perfect parents for her baby boy, due February 2021. She had found us and wanted to Facetime, to share her story.
Over the next five months, we became part of her prenatal journey. Despite living in different states, she included us in every way possible—ultrasounds, weekly updates, photos, and recordings of us reading to her baby. It was more than we could have imagined.
On February 6, 2021, our son, Myles James, was born. We were there the moment he entered the world. Dan cut the cord; I held him skin-to-skin. For two magical days, we loved him alongside his “first mama,” witnessing the beauty of this incredible gift.
Since then, we have maintained a loving relationship with Myles’ birth mother—an extraordinary woman who modeled selflessness, courage, and grace. She put her child’s needs above her own, and we will forever honor and thank her by raising Myles with the love, guidance, and joy he deserves.
Our journey inspired us to share Myles’ story because adoption is often misunderstood. While complex and sometimes painful, it can be a profound expression of love and hope. Myles’ birth mother didn’t “give him up.” She gave him life, a future, and a family who longed to love him. Both our families are now united, and the support surrounding Myles is remarkable.
Every day, we look at our son with tears of awe and gratitude. He is the perfect piece of our detour. If our “perfect plan” had succeeded, we would have missed out on him entirely. It’s a beautiful lesson in faith: sometimes the thing we once resented becomes our greatest blessing.
Whether or not adoption has touched your life, we hope our story encourages you to embrace the detours, the dead ends, and the unexpected paths. Because often, the hardest roads lead to the most extraordinary destinations.
