There are conversations in life that leave a mark, that are hard to forget even as the years go by. They can happen on an ordinary day, seem meaningless or dreamy, yet somehow stay with you forever.
For us, it happened just like that... Two dreamy teenagers, late at night, almost in secret, sitting quietly in my backyard, painting their future.
We’d spend hours imagining the life we wanted to build together. We talked about our future children, their names, and what our family might look like one day. We made wishes on shooting stars as we sketched out a family with one son and one daughter.
At the time, we had no idea what life had in store. Our plan didn’t include moving to another country, or going through separations, or reunions, or fertility issues. And yet, interestingly enough, adoption was already floating around in those conversations. We were always drawn to the idea, without knowing it would one day be the heart of our family.
Naturalmente después de la llegada de nuestra hija, empezaron las preguntas: ¿Van a tener otro?, ¿Y el hermanito para cuándo?, ¿Van a adoptar otra vez?, ¿Van a probar con in vitro esta vez?… y no faltaba el comentario “Now that you adopted, you’ll see, you’ll probably get pregnant. It happened to so-and-so
Truth is, we weren’t thinking about any of that, and we weren’t trying either. My dream of becoming a mother had already come true. I felt fulfilled, happy, wrapped up in my daughter and loving the role of being her mom. We weren’t closed off to the idea, if God wanted to send us another child, we’d welcome them with all our love, but we weren’t actively pursuing it.
I think the first adoption process, while beautiful, left me a little emotionally drained. It brought fears and uncertainties. I felt so blessed already that trying again felt like tempting fate. I didn’t want to walk a difficult path again after having finally found peace in my motherhood journey.
Until one random Monday, two and a half years after our daughter was born, my husband came home from playing soccer, sat on the couch with me, and started sharing a conversation he had with a friend, one that made him think about a second child.
His friend is an only child. He shared how he remembers wishing he had a sibling, how lonely he felt growing up, especially seeing other kids always have someone in the backseat with them… someone to play with, fight with… to keep him company.
In the middle of the conversation, my husband told me that his brother is a vital part of his life, the best gift his parents ever gave him. Then he asked me if I felt the same, if I believed that my siblings were one of the greatest gifts my parents gave me.
Of course, it made me think... My siblings are part of who I am. I can’t imagine life without them. They’re my confidants, my first friends, the ones who taught me to share, to play, and most importantly, the only people in the world with whom I share my parents.
That night, we didn’t make any decisions. We just put the topic on the table. But something inside me began to stir, as if something that had been sleeping quietly was suddenly waking up.
We knew we didn’t want to pursue fertility treatments. And because of my fears, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go through another private domestic adoption either. So I started to do a little research into another path, adoption through the foster care system.
It seemed like a safer process. From what I understood, the children in state custody had already gone through the legal process. They had been separated from their biological parents, and a judge had already determined they could be adopted.
Esa idea me llamó mucho la atención. Así que comencé mi búsqueda…
Grateful to have you here, heart to heart.
Melli
