We had three beautiful boys. Life was full and joyful, but deep in my heart, I always longed for another child. Friends would often say they were “done” after their last child, but I never felt that way. My heart quietly whispered for just one more baby.
Our three boys were close in age, and life felt like it was flying by in a blur of laughter, toys, and chaos. Occasionally, we would talk about having another child, but then life would sweep us up again. Three years passed, then five, then eight. Still, the yearning never faded.
Of course, with three boys, there was always talk about having a little girl. But honestly, it didn’t matter whether it was a boy or a girl. I simply wanted another child to hold, to love, to nurture, and to protect. My mother would bring up adoption, especially from China. “Oh Amy, why don’t you adopt one of those precious babies from China?” she would say. I knew very little about adoption at the time, and mostly out of fear, I would brush it off.
Almost seven years after our youngest was born, Derek and I started talking seriously about having another child. By then, we were both in our late thirties. I questioned whether I wanted to put my body through another pregnancy and the risks that come with it. Could we still have the energy to fully engage with a newborn? Despite my doubts, my heart kept pulling me forward.
Then one day, my oldest son, Aidan, came home and asked, almost out of the blue, “Can we adopt a baby girl?” A friend’s family had recently adopted from China, and Aidan, who was eight years older than his potential sister, loved the bond they shared. His excitement made the idea feel real in a way I hadn’t imagined.
The thought of adoption came back into our conversations. “What about adopting?” I asked, though my voice was hesitant, reflecting my own uncertainty. Derek wasn’t sure either, and I needed time to let it all sink in. But deep down, I knew I would love another child with all my heart, no matter how they came into our lives. Interestingly, my parents had a connection to a man in the adoption field. My mother had given me his business card three separate times. The first two, I had ignored it, tossing the cards into a drawer, scared of what taking that step might mean.
Another year passed. I often brought up the idea of adoption, gently nudging Derek, but he was still unsure. “Amy, we’d be starting all over again,” he would say. “I’m not sure I can do that.” Our youngest was turning ten, and I could see the sadness in his eyes mirroring my own. There were times I questioned myself, wondering if I was wrong for wanting another child. But I also knew that if we didn’t try, I might regret it forever.
It was our 15th wedding anniversary when everything changed. I remember that weekend as vividly as if it happened yesterday—a beautiful, sunny day with crisp air, sitting at a bar overlooking the ocean. We were chatting casually when Derek suddenly said, “I think we should do it. I think we should look into adopting.” My heart leapt. I smiled so wide it felt like my face might split. “I’m not sure I could handle a newborn, but I would consider a toddler,” I admitted. Derek nodded, and in that moment, I knew we were taking the first step toward expanding our family.
Monday morning couldn’t come fast enough. I finally dialed the third business card my mother had given me. My hands were shaking, my heart racing. On the other end, a man named Mike answered. I nervously asked every question I could think of, even though I didn’t know if they were the right ones. Mike worked for the Connecticut Department of Children and Families, and through him, I learned the basics of adoption through foster care. I wrote everything down and followed the instructions to attend an information session. That small step began our journey, and I knew there was no turning back.
After attending the session, we moved forward with PRIDE training—six weeks of parenting classes, every Saturday, six hours a day. At first, we were annoyed. We already had three children; what could we possibly not know? But soon, we realized how much we had to learn—about trauma, different cultures, and the realities of children in foster care. It was invaluable.
Then one day, I ran into a friend at the gym, Mary Ellen, who told me about a 15-month-old toddler girl named Sammie. She was being fostered by her aunt and uncle, who couldn’t care for her permanently. My heart skipped a beat. “We will be that family,” I blurted, explaining that we had just started PRIDE training and were hoping to adopt a toddler. She connected us, and in that instant, I felt a sense of fate.
Meeting Sammie for the first time was surreal. She toddled around with brown hair and eyes so familiar they almost took my breath away. From that moment, we knew she belonged with us. We became her court-appointed pre-adoptive family, sharing visits and overnights for a year. My teenage sons adored her, Derek was smitten, and I loved her fiercely. But after 12 months, Sammie was reunified with her birth mother. I will never forget that day—the grief, the heartbreak. I felt as though the world had been pulled out from under me. My husband, my boys, and I were devastated.
In retrospect, I truly believe Sammie led us to our daughter, Mary Claire. Sammie is where she is meant to be, healthy, happy, and thriving with her mother. The love I had for her in such a short time taught me that love transcends biology.
After grieving, Derek and I decided to continue our adoption journey, this time pursuing private domestic adoption. By May, our home study was complete, and we began connecting with agencies. In August, we were approved as a waiting family. Weeks passed, and then we received a situation that felt different. We knew instantly this was the one.
It was nerve-wracking; we weren’t sure we would be chosen, given our three biological boys and the birth parents’ preference for families struggling to have children. But when Caitlin called, I heard the words I had been dreaming of: “You have been chosen. Angel and Connor would like your family to adopt their baby.” I screamed, laughed, and cried all at once. The moment I shared the news with Derek and the boys was unforgettable.
Our connection with Mary Claire’s birth parents was immediate and natural. We flew to Kansas to meet them before the birth, and the bond only deepened. When Mary Claire was born, we were the first to hold her. It was magical, a moment where everything felt right. Angel, her birth mother, needed guidance at first, and I was there to support her through labor and delivery. Watching them bond, alongside our own love for Mary Claire, was profound.
Bringing Mary Claire home filled our house with pink, laughter, and joy. Yet I also felt sorrow for her first mama. I realized adoption comes with every emotion imaginable—joy, fear, grief, and immense love. Mary Claire is meant to be in our family, and her presence has brought indescribable happiness. Our teenage sons adore her, and even my 6’6” husband melts at her every move. People stop us in public, commenting on her angelic face, and I can’t help but agree—she is truly extraordinary.
We are blessed to have an open, natural relationship with her birth family. Visits, calls, and Facetimes happen organically, like any other family connection. Angel and her family are now an integral part of our lives, and we treasure every moment with them.
After Mary Claire’s adoption, I felt called to guide other families through domestic infant adoption. Helping others navigate the complex, emotional process led to the creation of Hello Baby Adoption Consultants. I encourage every family I work with to take the leap, despite fear. Because if you don’t try, it will never happen. Our mission is simple: families may look different on the outside, but inside, they all share the same heart. We proudly serve all families—traditional, same-sex, single parents, of any religion, race, or background.
Through love, perseverance, and faith, we said, “Hello Baby,” and our hearts are fuller than we ever imagined.
