We may not have heard our children’s very first words, but we’ve heard many others in our journey through infertility and foster adoption—and now, as family.
We left our house this morning a family of three, but the next time we walk through our front door, it will be as a family of four.
Growing up in Trinidad, I didn’t use the word black to describe myself. But as the mother of two black children in the U.S., I walk the fine line of raising them to believe they are capable and worthy while understanding that everyone in this country has been taught to discount their value.
After adopting my children from foster care, we eased into contact with their birth mother. She and I—a conservative, suburban mom—couldn’t be more different, and I’m glad that’s the case. The kids have a special relationship with her that they can’t have with me.
“My biological brother was adopted as an infant. When he found us, he was eager to claim us as family. But is that really what we were?” A woman shares the story of meeting her birth sibling and offers advice for others contemplating search or faced with a reunion.
An unexpected emergency tests the strength of a mother-daughter bond.
When older children argue and act out, it’s often connected to events from their past. How could any child move through 14 foster placements unscathed? But last night, another clash, followed by a heart-to-heart, brought us one piece closer to feeling like a solid family.
My parents were immigrants from Germany and India, my husband also comes from a mixed background; we have one biological child, and one adopted from South Korea. What makes my daughter Korean? What makes her American?
We’re committed to raising our son in our religion, but we won’t let his adoption erase essential parts of who he is.
She went abroad intending to be an orphanage volunteer—and came back a mother.
Three years after her adoption, we returned to our daughter’s Russian orphanage to visit her caregivers and friends there.
Somehow, somewhere in my mind I believed that becoming a mother through adoption would erase my infertility. But one pregnancy announcement after another from family and friends soon made it clear that this was far from the truth.
First I looked through the pages of Adoptive Families with a sense of duty. Then, the hope I felt looking at the made me realize, “I want to adopt a child.”
After meeting a man who thought he might be our daughter’s birth father, we were all invested in the idea of an open adoption relationship—but how would the test come back?
The mementos we gathered during our long adoption stay have meant a great deal to our daughter as she grows up.
How one young woman lost her family, survived a war, escaped two continents, and through the kindness of strangers found a lifelong home in Atlanta.
When our daughter was born, her birth mom listed the birth father as “unknown.” Ten years later, he found us on social media and reached out.
The Chinese adoptee community moved across oceans, grew up in interracial families, and is now navigating young adulthood. We hold a special place in history—but long to know our own personal beginnings.
A child doesn’t have to be adopted internationally to need to find her roots.
My partner and I thought long and hard about whether we wanted to adopt a second child. We decided to adopt a puppy-sister for our daughter instead.
