Our love story began in the most unexpected way: two sorority girls, both with boyfriends, who somehow became the best friends—and eventually, the greatest love—either of us had ever known.
It was our senior year of college, at a national sorority convention, and neither of us knew many people. But somehow, we found each other. We connected instantly. Within days, we were inseparable, finding any excuse to spend time together. Whether it was a sorority event or just a reason to hang out, we drove the 45 minutes between us every weekend without complaint. And before we even realized it, friendship had quietly blossomed into something much deeper. We were falling in love.
For months, we tried to convince ourselves we were “just friends,” but the truth was undeniable: this was more than we had anticipated, more than we were prepared for, and more than we could have ever imagined.
Once we admitted our feelings—to ourselves and to each other—those weekend drives became daily commutes of love. Cindy was studying in North Carolina, but still living in Florida. Being together meant she had to make a major decision: stay in North Carolina with her girlfriend of just three months. So, we packed up her life in Florida and brought her things back to North Carolina, ready to start our life together.
Three months after meeting, we were officially a couple. Three months later, we moved in together. And three months after that, we got engaged. Our engagement story is actually two stories—both unforgettable.
Cindy proposed first, during my birthday weekend in 2018, on a camping trip in the mountains. The day had been perfect, and as we settled into the tent that night, Cindy kept leaving to use the bathroom. Naturally, I insisted on accompanying her—it was dark, a little spooky, and I didn’t want to be alone. After a few attempts to get me to stay, she finally said, “You need to stay in the tent.”
Moments later, she returned and unzipped the tent. “Baby! There’s a family of deer outside, come see!” she exclaimed. Sleepy and groggy, I followed her. That’s when the small pathway lights began to illuminate. At the end of the path, a sign read, “Will you marry me?” And there she was, on one knee, asking me to spend my life with her. The answer was the easiest “yes” I’ve ever given.
A week later, I got my turn. I printed dozens of our favorite photos, strung them together, and set up a surprise on a little bridge overlooking a pond in a park Cindy had never visited. With help from a kind stranger, I hung the pictures between two trees.
Cindy got off work later than expected, so I waited—long enough that curious passersby started asking questions. “Oh, I’m proposing to my fiancé!” I said, smiling, if a little awkwardly. When Cindy arrived, I led her to the setup, and it became clear what was happening. I got down on one knee and asked her to be my wife. A few people even clapped! It was perfect.
Wedding planning moved quickly. We had originally set our date for May 23, 2020, but the pandemic hit in March, forcing us to postpone. It was a tough decision, but safety came first. We rescheduled for September 19, 2020—my birthday—and it turned out to be the best birthday present I could have imagined. Our guest list was smaller, masks were worn, and social distancing was observed, but it didn’t matter: the day was ours.
We were married at Walnut Lane Bed and Breakfast in Pleasant Garden, North Carolina—a charming cottage tucked in the woods, surrounded by wildflowers. We stayed there Friday and Saturday, allowing time to relax before the wedding. We had decided early on to skip the tradition of getting ready with a large bridal party, choosing instead to prepare just the two of us, quietly savoring the moment.
When it was time for the ceremony, Cindy and I emerged from opposite sides of the house and met in the middle. Together, we walked down the aisle, wanting to “give ourselves away” rather than follow tradition. Our family sat in the front row, petals covered the aisle, and at the end, our best friend—ordained just to marry us—waited. A few hours earlier, we had even written our vows on the backs of pizza receipts, laughing and crying through the process. It was intimate, imperfect, and exactly what we wanted.
In June 2020, just months after our wedding, we began the process of adopting through foster care. I had always dreamed of becoming a mom; it had been a lifelong desire. Cindy, on the other hand, hadn’t grown up imagining parenthood, and she was initially hesitant. But over time, her excitement grew—from seeing me as a mom, to imagining herself as a grandma, to imagining the joys of parenting together.
We decided early on that neither of us would carry a pregnancy. Adoption felt right. After researching our options, we chose to adopt through the foster care system rather than privately, wanting our family to grow without the financial and transactional pressures of private adoption.
We submitted our application in June, had our first interview in November, and began parenting classes shortly after. Now, there are background checks, fingerprinting, references, medical forms, psych evaluations, and home studies standing between us and our future child. We are learning behavioral management, de-escalation techniques, and the realities children in foster care may face.
We also understand the gravity of adoption—how someone else’s loss can become our joy. It’s a strange, bittersweet reality, and we approach it with humble excitement, ready to welcome the next chapter of our lives while honoring the story that brought our future child into our lives.
We are thrilled to see how our family will grow, and we hope by sharing our story—two women adopting through foster care—we can provide representation and hope to others searching for similar stories. Here we are, living our love story, building our family, and ready for everything the future holds.
