Welcome home, baby boy

On May 15th, our son Ezra was born.


He entered  our family through adoption 3 days later on May 18th.

The last month has been a beautiful blur, with all its sleep deprivation and captivating little smiles and hustling to make another bottle before all hell breaks loose…Parenthood is all the good and scary and endlessly exhausting things in life rolled into one tiny adorable package. It has been the wildest adventure of my life to date.

In pursuing adoption, you hear of all the many scenarios that may play out. You could wait weeks or you could wait many, many months. Some receive a call one day that a woman they’d never met just gave birth unexpectedly and she wants them to be the baby’s parents. Some spend almost the entire duration of a pregnancy developing a relationship with a birth family, struggling to find common ground and connection, trying to navigate the uncomfortable space created by all the factors at play. I tried for months to brace myself for a likely painful, arduous road leading up to meeting the child God had for us. I imagined our relationship with this other imaginary family to feel awkward and unnatural, but I couldn’t have been further from our future reality.

Miraculously, our journey to meeting our son felt more like finding a piece of myself I had been missing than trying to force a square peg into a round hole. While we only had about 2 weeks to get to know our son’s biological parents, after meeting them the first time it felt like they were kindred spirits. I marvel thinking back on the trust we were able to build in this 2 weeks, and the joy I still have when I think about this beautiful family we get to journey with in this open adoption story unfolding.

Other than the obvious gift of getting to be Ezra’s mama, the second most significant gift given to us by our son’s birth mom was getting to watch him enter the world. Prior to that day, I never wanted to let myself believe we would get that type of opportunity. I felt strongly that her labor and his birth was hers to control, and that sacred space was hers to own. I’m still in awe that she allowed us to take part in those moments, and that the first birth I’ve witnessed was Ezra’s-a perfect picture of the selfless, fierce, sacrificial love of a women one million times stronger than I’ll ever be as she brought forth life from her own body. It moved me to my core and puts tears in my eyes to this day.

I will go to bat for that woman until the end of my days, because no one will ever be able to match the level of strength and love I witnessed during that hospital stay and beyond.

Perhaps more than anything, I’m grateful that my son gets to grow up with tangible evidence that his journey into our family began in a place filled to the brim with love, respect, and mutual trust. He will see pictures of the smiles on his birth parents faces as they snapped photos of him, passed him around the room, fed him, burped him, changed him, and soaked in every last drop of his goodness possible. He will see his birth grandparents’ pride on their faces when they came to see him in the hospital. He will laugh at how uninterested his biological sister was in him, sitting on the bed eating her chips and pretending her mommy wasn’t holding another baby. He will see Josh and I, overwhelmed with hope and anticipation at the thought of getting to bring this baby home. With US! How on earth did we get so lucky?

So here we are, one month later. Still full of hope and anticipation for what’s to come for this new life who exists in our home. Filled with even more love than I thought possible. Still in awe of what took place that warm sunny day in May. We are just beginning this parenting road, with all of its bumps and turns, but I can already sense how this experience is changing me.


Welcome home, baby. You are a precious, priceless, and beloved gift to our family. We will cherish you forever, and can’t wait to see all the gifts you bring to this world to make it a better place. You’ve already made ours so much brighter.