Love Makes a Family: Our Adoption Journey

I have never felt like adoption was a “backup plan.” Since I was a little girl, I’ve always felt drawn to adoption as part of building my future family. Deep down, I knew I would adopt a baby at some point in my life. Over the last couple of months, I’ve had experiences that showed me that we get to adopt much sooner than I expected.

I want to share this experience for two reasons: (1) because I hope my feelings now can help me in the future, and (2) because I hope it helps someone else one day—especially my own kids, if they ever go through something similar. I want them to be able to feel what I felt.

Here’s the backstory, because looking back on something can make the experience feel completely different.

Tony and I had been trying to have a baby for almost two years. I graduated from law school in May and passed the bar about 2 months ago. Life has been pretty chaotic, and we’ve been living in a weird limbo for the last little while.

But in the last few months, everything—and I mean everything—fell into place so perfectly. We had been house hunting since January and decided to pause until after the bar exam. I took the bar at the end of July, and the first or second week of August we found the house we now live in. It was our dream floor plan, in a beautiful location, and the whole process came together seamlessly. We moved in the first week of September. It couldn’t have gone better.

A few weeks after moving in, I found out I passed the bar exam—three weeks early—so I was able to start working as an attorney much sooner than planned. Then Tony got the exact car he’d been wanting, at an amazing deal. Truly, the last couple of months have felt like everything we’d been working toward finally fell into place.

Then about 2 months ago, I started experiencing some unusual symptoms. I went to urgent care and found out I was pregnant. Because I had been bleeding, they sent me to the emergency room. The ER confirmed the pregnancy hormone was in my blood, but nothing showed on the ultrasound. They told me to get another blood test in two days—if it was a healthy pregnancy, my hCG levels would double. If it was a miscarriage, my levels would drop.

I remember crying on the way to the ER. I don’t even know if it was joy, fear, or both. After nearly two years of negative tests and confusion, this was the first positive pregnancy test, and I was overwhelmed with hope—and scared.

We left the ER without any real answers. I just knew that in two days I’d either see my hCG levels double or fall.

As I waited, I felt discouraged but also grateful. The fact that my body had gotten pregnant at all felt like a miracle. Even if it ended in a miscarriage, I think I would have been sad, but I also would have celebrated that my body could get pregnant. It felt like confirmation that I was okay.

Right before this happened, Tony and I had started fertility testing. This felt like a sign that we didn’t need to go through all of that yet—that maybe my body had simply been under extreme stress from law school, the bar exam, and not being settled.

Two days later, my levels rose, but they didn’t double. I didn’t even know that was possible. I thought they would either double (healthy pregnancy) or fall (miscarriage). But mine kept slowly rising.

Every two days for about a week and a half, I got my hCG checked. The numbers rose slightly, but never doubled.

A few days later, Tony and I went to our religious temple to pray and seek guidance. I felt a lot of peace and honestly started to believe that everything was going to be okay. For the first time, I felt like I might be experiencing a miracle. Up until then, I kept assuming it would end badly.

Then my OB called and told me to go back to the ER because she suspected an ectopic pregnancy based on my hCG levels.

At the ER, they did another ultrasound and blood test. My levels were still rising slightly, but again, nothing showed on the ultrasound except a small cyst that was actually supporting the pregnancy. So I had no answers—again.

The OB on call told us, “We don’t know what’s going on. We don’t see anything in your uterus, but we don’t see anything elsewhere either.” He said that in cases like this, the pregnancy almost never ends well, and he was nearly certain it was ectopic—but not certain enough to recommend medication. He explained that we had two options: take the medicine to cure a possible ectopic pregnancy now, or wait. The risk with waiting was that if it truly was ectopic, I could end up needing emergency surgery.

I felt heartbroken—not just because the baby probably wouldn’t survive, but because I had to choose. I told him I believed in science and also in miracles. If 100 out of 100 cases ended in surgery or miscarriage, I’d take the medicine. But if even 1 out of 100 ended in a healthy baby, I wanted to wait.

Just days earlier, I had felt so strongly that I was experiencing a miracle. I was overwhelmed and hysterical. The doctor gave us time to decide.

This was one of the moments I knew I married the right person. Tony told me, “Jessica, this is your body and I’ll support whatever you choose, but I think you need to take the medicine. I couldn’t live without you, and it isn’t worth the chance.” He brought reason when I was drowning in emotion. I felt like taking the medicine meant rejecting a miracle. But Tony helped me feel his love and God’s love. He helped me trust that taking the medicine was the right choice—and that God would show us that by blessing us with a baby soon.

So we chose the medication.

For the next 24 hours, I was devastated. I kept feeling like I had rejected a gift God had given me. My mom encouraged me to write everything down and look for the tender mercies in the experience.

Here are the tender mercies I saw:

First: Over the last 2–3 months, I had felt God’s hand in everything—our home, my job, the timing. I felt so loved and so seen. I think He knew this experience would make me feel alone and heartbroken, so He surrounded me with blessings beforehand to remind me He was there.

Second: Modern medicine. Fifty years ago, I might have learned about an ectopic pregnancy only after a fallopian tube ruptured—and I might not have survived.

Third: My body could get pregnant, which we genuinely didn’t know.

Fourth: I am very in tune with my body, and I’m grateful I listened when something felt off.

But the story didn’t end there.

About a week later, I started having severe cramping—unlike anything I’d ever felt. We went back to the ER. My hCG levels still hadn’t dropped the way they were supposed to, which meant the medication didn’t work. The OB told us we could either try another dose or proceed with surgery. They still couldn’t see anything on the ultrasound, so if we chose surgery, there was a chance they wouldn’t find anything.

We prayed and chose surgery.

During surgery, the OB found the ectopic pregnancy. My fallopian tube was extremely damaged and had to be removed. That gave us the answers we needed.

He also discovered endometriosis, which had damaged both fallopian tubes. He removed the tube with the ectopic pregnancy and explained that the remaining damage would make natural pregnancy significantly more difficult.

As hard as that was to hear, it was the answer we truly needed.

Before starting fertility testing, we kept going back and forth—do we pursue medical treatment, or do we start our family through adoption? This experience made the path clear.

Adoption has never been a backup plan. It has always felt like a gift, and now it feels like the path we are meant to take.

We know every family has a story. Experiences shape us and can make us bitter or better. I’m grateful this experience is healing me. I’m grateful Tony and I get to start our family through adoption. We are excited, humbled, and honored to be considered for this incredible gift.