Sunday, December 28, 2008


The following is an article about a Korean adoptee and the bond he shared with his Grandfather.

Dad never talked about the Korean War. Until my adopted son started asking.

I was driving to my parents’ house, and I was nervous. The reason was right behind me, nestled in a car seat. My adopted baby son Matthew had come home with us just a few days before. Now we were taking him to meet his grandparents. He was eight months old, with a shock of feathery black hair sticking straight up. The hair was the giveaway. Matthew was a beautiful boy. But he didn’t look a thing like my husband, David, or me. Both of us were southerners, born and bred. Matthew was from Korea. That was the problem.

My father, Sonny, had been an Army sergeant in the Korean War. What exactly that meant, I never quite knew. It was something involving a medical unit, something about unloading wounded men from helicopters and preparing them for the doctors. I didn’t know because he never talked about it. He would answer whatever question I put to him, but only that question, and with as few words as possible, speaking barely above a whisper, averting his eyes. He’d worked as a house builder after returning from the war, then as a land developer. He was a stoic man, never cried, and I probably saw his emotions mostly when he played guitar, which he did beautifully.

The war came right up, though, when I told my mom we planned to adopt Matthew. She called me a short time later. “Teri,” she said, sounding apprehensive, “I don’t want to worry you, but I thought you should know. When I mentioned to your father that Matthew is Korean, he got a little upset.” I was quiet. She went on. “Now, I calmed him down, but he was saying things like, ‘I had to fight those people. They killed a lot of my friends.’ I told him that was a long time ago, but, well, I thought you should know.”

The drive to my parents’ house was 90 minutes from the small country town where David worked as a Methodist minister. I spent every one of those minutes thinking hard and praying.

Matthew was like a sudden and unexpected gift dropping into our lives. I have a disease called lupus, which makes it dangerous to conceive a baby. For a while I was reconciled to that. I earned my music degree in college and led a high school choir, and David and I had our hands full with the church. Not until my mid-30s did I begin to feel something was missing. We tried a state adoption agency, but everything about it—the paperwork, home inspections, background checks, the number of people ahead of us on the list—suggested we’d never get a baby. An international agency told us basically the same thing.

And yet, a year later, both agencies called out of the blue with offers of baby boys. Christian came first, from the state agency. He was deaf and mute, and we accepted him immediately, and loved him. The international agency called three months later. “We have a boy from Korea,” they said. “His biological mother is schizophrenic, so we’re having trouble placing him. Will you take him?” They didn’t say so outright, but I sensed that Matthew might go to an orphanage if I didn’t say yes. I answered with barely a thought.

God, please make that the right decision, I prayed as David cut the engine on my parents’ drive. We unbuckled the boys, and my mom appeared at the door, gasping with delight at Matthew’s alert, curious face. Inside, I saw my dad in his favorite chair, an ancient maroon recliner worn bare on the armrests. He didn’t look particularly pleased. I decided to get it over with right away. “Daddy, I want you to meet your new grandson,” I said, handing Matthew to him. I don’t know what I was expecting, but all that came was silence. A long, deep silence, maybe 30 seconds. And then Matthew made a noise, a little gurgle, and bunched up his face. Dad smiled, and I heard him chuckle. Matthew chuckled back. Dad’s smile widened. He laughed again, and before I knew it the two were laughing at each other, Dad making faces and Matthew waving his arms like he couldn’t contain himself. I felt my whole body relax. Dad looked up, his sky-blue eyes wide in his pale, drawn face. “He looks like a good boy, Teri.”

From that day forward, Matthew and my dad became inseparable. David enrolled in a seminary and days he was gone, I’d drive the boys to my parents’. Dad played guitar and sang with them, read to them and sat them on his lap in the maroon chair to watch TV. He loved them equally, but I could tell he was especially taken with Matthew. He’d watch him intently or gather him into his arms with a big “oomph!”—like the war had never been an issue.

Years went by. The boys entered school and seemed to do fine until, in first grade, Matthew began coming home troubled. “Mom,” he asked one day, “am I American?”

“Of course you are, sweetheart,” I replied. “What makes you ask that?”

“Kids at school say I’m not. They say I’m Korean and I look funny, and America beat Korea in a war and I should go home.” I tried reassuring Matthew, but he kept bringing it up, especially the part about the war. One day I was in my parents’ kitchen, when suddenly I froze. A little voice floated in from the living room, where Matthew was playing with his grandfather on the maroon chair.

“Poppy,” Matthew said, “why did Americans fight Koreans? What did the Koreans do wrong?”

The house went silent. I stood at the counter, unable to collect my wits. Before I could move, my dad’s voice sounded.

Matthew,” he said slowly and gently, “that’s not quite the right way to put it, son. The Koreans didn’t do anything wrong, especially the South Koreans, where you come from. The North Koreans were trying to take them over. So the Americans came to help. And the South Koreans fought too. They were very brave. I know, because I was there.”

I could hardly believe it. It was more words about the war than I had ever heard my father speak. Matthew wasn’t satisfied, though. He had more questions, many more. They poured out. And my father answered every one. Finally, Matthew changed the subject then ran outside to play. I peered into the living room. My father’s head was leaning against the back of the chair. He looked tired. Better make sure that doesn’t happen again, I thought.

But it did happen, every time we went to my parents’. The minute we walked in the door, Matthew was on his grandfather’s lap, asking about the war. Dad was good about it, but finally I had to act. While the kids were outside one day, I blurted out an offer to make Matthew stop.

Dad looked at me a minute, puzzled. “Stop?” he said. “Heavens, Teri, don’t do that. I don’t mind at all. In fact—” He put a hand to his face. “Do you know, until he started asking me those questions, I don’t think I’d ever figured out why I was there. Why so many of my friends died. But, Teri, I know now. I was there for him.” He stopped, and I thought maybe he would cry. But he composed himself, and I sensed that was all he wanted to say.

With Matthew, though, he couldn’t stop talking. History, especially Korean War history, became their bond. I bought Matthew books and videos about it, and he and my dad read or watched them together.

I stopped tensing every time the subject came up. I’d sit in my parents’ living room, reading the paper, while Christian played with his toys and Dad and Matthew chattered away about some battle. One day—it was Memorial Day, actually, and our whole extended family was at my parents’ house—I was doing just that when I heard Dad say something like, “It brought me you.” I looked over. Matthew was facing my dad, knees straddling his lap. Suddenly his little brown hands flew up to my dad’s pale cheeks. “Poppy,” he declared, “you’re my hero!”

There was more silence, and I realized my dad’s face was quivering. A tear appeared at the corner of one eye and rolled down his cheek, landing on his shirt. Soon he was crying harder than I’d ever seen. He held Matthew in his arms, rocking back and forth, until the tears stopped and his eyes simply closed.

Dad died last year and was buried as a veteran, with a flag draping his casket. At the funeral, the boys put their hands on his chest to make sure he’d really stopped breathing. I told them he was in heaven. They’re back to their old selves now, though one thing is different about Matthew. He never talks about the Korean War. And he stopped asking if he was an American. I want to tell Dad, of course, share this new side of Matthew with him. But I think he knows. Maybe he always knew, from that moment they met. They both had so many questions. And there, in that old maroon chair, they found the answers. We all did.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Aw Shucks, Mom.

In response to my mom's comment, and the many other people that have mentioned their surprise to my emotional blog... I know I am not very candid with my emotions. (Is that an understatement?) I wanted our friends and family to experience this journey from our point of view. I want everyone to understand that life moves on, and while we are sad for what we have lost, we are hopeful for what is to come. There have been times when people have expressed their sadness when we made our big announcement. I know they only did that because it is the first time I have opened myself up, and allowed them to acknowledge our babies we lost. It is not really possible to acknowledge the adoption without also acknowledging what led us to this point. So, I created a blog, because I want people to experience this part with us. I want to share my excitement with all of you, so you can in turn celebrate it with us. Without the blog, the conversations would inevitably end with my dry ridiculous humor. Don't worry, I am not turning into some serious, deep, thoughtful person who throws around terms like "our journey" and quotes people.
I'm still here. And I still laugh to myself, picturing Corey searching for the punch line at the end of the post.

Thursday, December 11, 2008


We're all heading to the doctor this month, in a rush to tie up loose ends before the end of the year. I just went to my dentist appointment for a cleaning. I immediately confessed to the hygenist that I don't floss regularly, although I am trying so I can set a good example for Livija. She asked about Livija and if she was our only child. Typically I'd say yes and leave it at that. For some reason I said yes, and we are in the process of adopting our second. She smiled and shared with me that her children were both adopted from Korea! She even used the same agency as ours.
As I was leaving she stopped me and said that the wait can be very hard. She said that once that picture arrives and we see our baby, it will only get harder. She even compared it to the longest most painful labor in the world. BUT, she added, that once our little one comes home, you forget how hard it was.
I imagine it is like the long months waiting for Livija to come home from the NICU. You wait and you cry and you scream, while the light at the end of the tunnel seems so dim and so far away. But suddenly you've arrived. You are finally a family and you can hardly imagine what life was like before that moment. I'll keep that in mind when the picture comes. Although I imagine I won't be so rational at that point.

Monday, December 8, 2008

We are ok for now. Our agency sends out a monthly newsletter, and according to the month of December, we are still within the same timeframe we've had since the beginning. This means a match in mid to late summer. Hopefully. I won't be surprised if things change though. Korea is working very hard towards making adoption more culturally acceptable, in the hopes that they will no longer be needing to place children internationally. 2012 is the estimated date that international adoption will end in Korea. One of their steps towards reaching this goal is reducing the number of international referrals each year. There is a possibility that this will make our timeframe a bit longer.
Nothing we can do about it. We just need to remind ourselves, that while this wait can be difficult, frustrating and emotionally tolling; it is temporary. A drop in the bucket compared to the lifelong family we are building.

In unrelated news, Christmas is right around the corner. I hope you are all enjoying the season. I've included a picture of our Christmas tree.

Sunday, November 30, 2008


The rumor mill is working overtime, and it isn't good. I check in on our agency's adoption message boards to learn about each phase of the adoption process. The new topic that has everyone talking? LONGER wait times. I haven't specifically heard this is the case with our particular agency, but I'm preparing myself for the announcement.

Saturday, November 29, 2008


It's that time of year! Time to deck the halls, and get ready for Christmas. I started with the blog. I hope you like the new format. I like to change it up with the holiday or season, it makes me feel like a significant amount of time has passed and we are one step closer to our baby.
In addition to the new look, I added the "followers" section. I honestly don't really know what it means. I'm hoping it will let you know when I have updated, since they are sometimes quite infrequent, and I don't want you to forget about us. I also don't really know how one becomes a follower, so good luck with that. As you can tell, I am not exactly a computer genius. If you are reading my blog, and you know more about what this new feature is, feel free to share with the rest of us!

I am going to go and decorate the rest of the house! I'll add pictures once we're done. I hope everyone is busy getting into the holiday spirit.

Friday, November 28, 2008


"Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow."
~ Melody Beattie ~

This Thanksgiving I feel blessed. I feel grateful for my life, my family, my amazing husband, and our beautiful daughter. I feel incredibly overjoyed that we were chosen to embark on this journey of adoption. I feel honored that we belong to friends and family that support us in each step we take, towards completing our family.

This Thanksgiving I thank all of you for being a part of our lives.

Friday, November 7, 2008


Whenever people inquire about how difficult the waiting is, I answer the same way... Right now everything is so far off, it kind of seems hypothetical to me. I'm sure as we get closer, and especially after a referral it will be torture, but for now it's ok.
WELL, this week things became less hypothetical. It's sinking in. I am so excited. I'm researching carriers and thinking of nurseries. I even picked out a pair of baby boy shoes. I won't buy anything until a referral (as instructed by Imants), but it's so much fun looking!
I know I'm going to come crashing down after this high. But for now it's so much fun.

Sunday, November 2, 2008


November is Premature Awareness Month AND National Adoption Month. Ironic, since premature babies has led me to adoption. A month to celebrate and mourn all at once.
I celebrate the adoption journey we are on. I celebrate our little miracle, Livija. I celebrate the babies that are saved everyday through the amazing technological advances. Babies like our Livija.
I mourn our sons.

The title of this post is a quote that meant a lot to me in the days following Livija's birth. It continues to mean a lot to me now. I feel that the many impossible situations we have faced in the past 3 years, are leading us to our next miracle. I just wish it wasn't so far away.

Our first attempt at Korea Night started out great. Imants had the day off. We chopped, we prepped, and we marinated. Our parents came to toast our first attempt at Korean food, as well as Imants' birthday. Then... the lights went out. We continued preparing, thinking this was a temporary setback. Why we thought this, I don't know. Afterall, it was October, and for some unexplainable reason we had about 8 inches of snow causing tree branches filled with brightly colored autumn leaves to come crashing down around us.
So we had pizza.

Korea night Take 2:
Our parents joined us as we finally made our meal. It consisted of cucumber kimchi, Dak-Galbi (spicy chicken), Kan-Pung Saewoo (fried shrimp with hot sauce), and Gaeran-Jjim (Korean style egg casserole). Recipes all gotten from our book Discovering Korean Cuisine.
The kimchi was good. The chicken was good but VERY spicy, since the 1 hour marinade sat for 2 days. The shrimp was amazing. The egg was watery but not bad. And my rice cooker made perfect rice. Overall it was a success.
By the end, my belly was full, I was loving Korean food, and my lips were on fire from the spiciness of it all (in a good way, of course).
This adoption process is very long, but I look forward to using the time to learn more about the Korean culture.

Sunday, October 26, 2008


This past weekend was my birthday. I was woken up to breakfast in bed and singing from Imants and Livija. I got an Abby Cadabby birthday card, and a rice cooker/poultry and fish steamer. Time to start cooking up some Korean dishes. We went to a Korean market today to get all the necessary ingredients, and then had an authentic Korean dinner at the restaurant next door to the market. It was my first experience with Korean food, and I loved it. Livija was even loving it, much to the surprise of the waitress, who warned us that some might be too spicy for our 3 year old. She tried a little bit of everything, and even leaned over her papa to scoop some up from his plate.
I ordered the bim bim bop, because I had heard of it before (and, I'll admit it, because it's so fun to say). I'll be sure to post an update on how our first "Korean Night" goes. Maybe if it resembles an authentic meal, I'll even include some pictures.
It was a great birthday weekend. Next year's birthday, I may not have both my babies with me, but I should have a picture of the one on the way. This thought gives me some hope.

Thursday, October 9, 2008


Many people have asked me if we have told Livija about our adoption plans. I feel she is too young (almost 3 years old) to really understand. So we decided to wait until we have been matched, and we can show Livija a picture so she can have something tangible that represents her baby brother or baby sister. In the meantime, I ask her if she would want a baby brother or sister one day (sometimes the answer is yes, sometimes no). We tell her that families are formed in all different ways. Yes, there are the "traditional" famlies, but there are also the "nontraditional" families. I want her to grow up understanding that some families have two parents, some have one, some even have two mommies or two daddies. Some have step parents, or adoptive parents. Some babies are born to us and some babies come to us through fate.

Livija and I went to the library today and found a beautiful book called A Mother for Choco. It reminds me of the children's book, Are You My Mother? But with a twist. Choco is a baby bird looking for a mother. In the end he is surprised to find that the family he finds doesn't look like him at all. His mother is a bear, and his new siblings are an alligator, a hippo and a pig. Choco quickly learns, that families are made up of love, it doesn't matter if you all look differently.

I think it's the perfect way to introduce the idea of adoption to a 3 year old.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008


I've had a few complaints that some people were unable to post a comment on this blog. I have adjusted the settings, so hopefully it will work now.
Thanks for checking in on us!!

Monday, September 15, 2008


I hope you like the new look. I'm going to change the layout each time a new season comes. Hopefully by the time we get back to fall, we'll be on our way to Korea!

Sunday, September 14, 2008


Someone on my adoption message board posted this article. I'm not sure who wrote it or where it came from, but I appreciated it and wanted to share.


Where do babies come from?
They come from joy and commitment and love and confidence. They come from sadness and want and loneliness and loss of faith. They come from the afternoon or the early, early morning or the dead of night. They come from years of anticipation, and they come unexpectedly, at the worst possible times, in cars and at dinner parties and during ice storms.

Babies come from prescriptions and syringes. They come from frozen test tubes stored in the depths of medical center freezers. They come from strangers who want to give an incredible gift to other strangers. They come from experiments and transplants. Babies come with help and without it, from good judgemenet and bad. They come from heaven, and sometimes they go right back.

Babies come from contentment. They come from discontent. They come from every continent. They come continuously, without end. Sometimes they never come.

And this week, one baby, one very lucky girl, is coming from China.

In her little life so far, she came to a mother who could not keep her. She came to an orphanage who loved and cared for her, but who wanted to find her a still better place. Her name and little picture came to an adoption agency, that brought them to my brother and sister-in-law. She came into their hearts, then into their arms, and very soon she will come into their home.

This baby, this week, will come to a new town, a new country, and a new family who is giddy to the point of being almost sick with excitement. She will come to a new room of her own, stuffed to the rafters with gifts and clothing from people who love her sight unseen, and to a new swing set, a little cabin, flowers gardens and fresh vegetables, and all of the attention she can stand.

She will come to a place where the supply of Cheerios and hugging will never, never dry up. Soon, she will come to Christmas lights and Fourth of July fireworks and birthday candles, more and more every year. She will come to a lacey First Communion dress, sleepovers and toenail painting with best friends, and bargaining with Mom and Dad about curfews and car keys. And in time, she will come to the understanding of what it is to be a daughter, not only of the two parents she sees at the dinner table, but of the two other people whom she will probably never know.

Where do babies come from?
They come from the sadness and want of a mother who must give her flesh and blood away. They come from lonely arms. They come from a lack of faith - or is it belief? - in the future.

But babies also come from the joy and commitment of new parents who never stop looking, no matter how far they have to search, They come from the love and confidence of an extended family who had infurled its many arms to embrace a little person whom they have never met but love without measure already. Babies come at the worst of times that miraculously, turn into the best of times.

And this week, one baby is literally coming from out of the blue on a summer afternoon from the airport, from China, direct from the arms of an angel.


Friday, August 29, 2008

We Got Mail!!

"Dear Imants and Marcie,
Congratulations! We are pleased to inform you your home study has been approved and your name is on the list of approved families waiting for a match of a child from Korea. This decision was jointly made. We will notify you when you have been matched with a child...."

I'm pretty sure that is a HUGE run on sentence, but who am I to proofread? We have finally received the letter we've been waiting for.

Basically we are now "officially" waiting. Probably no different than what you knew before, but to us this is huge. To put it in perspective, it's like I just got a positive pregnancy test. It'll be an incredibly LONG pregnancy, but at least this one can be toasted with a glass of wine. We are told the wait for a match is another 11 to 12 months. And then wishing, hoping and praying to plan our big trip BEFORE Christmas 2009!!!!

What a way to kick off the holiday weekend! CHEERS!

Wednesday, August 27, 2008


I said I wouldn't get anxious or frustrated until much later in the game. I said that I would be patient until we were matched (which won't be until next summer!!). As it turns out I am already anxious, frustrated and impatient. At the moment all our paper work is in to the agency... homestudy, fingerprints, criminal background clearances, physicals, references... and it is "sitting on the director's desk in the NJ office". That was what I was told. Why isn't it submitted already? We need this information to be submitted to the official office in order to be placed on the official waiting list. Every time I speak with my social worker she gives the impression that if it's not this week, it'll definitely be next week. This impression has been given for about a month now.
The longer this phase takes, the longer it takes to be matched with our baby. The longer it takes to be matched with our baby, the longer it takes for our baby to come home. So please, cross your fingers and cross your toes that we will hear something soon.
I'll keep you posted.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Our Little Nectarine

Somebody recently asked me if our baby "existed" yet. I did the math according to the current timeframe... and yes, our baby exists and is most likely in the first trimester. Maybe the size of an olive or a plum. Anyone else ever read My Pregnancy Week by Week? They always compare the size to fruit. My favorite was "this month she is the size of a banana... Is that in width, or just length?

Anyway, it's weird to think that our child "exists". It evokes just about every emotion you can imagine. Excitement, disbelief, awe, and even sadness.

I can't really fathom the reality that halfway across the world there is a woman carrying our baby. We prayed for a miracle and it has presented itself to us in a very unexpected way. Unexpected and yet perfect. This is the excitement, the disbelief and the awe.

The sadness is there because the reality is that halfway across the world there is a woman carrying a baby. She is probably praying for a miracle. She is probably praying she will be able to give her child a beautiful life. I can't possibly imagine having to make the decisions she is about to make. I can imagine though, that she does it with nothing but the love and hope she has for her unborn baby. I hope we are her unexpected miracle. Because I promise that we will give this child a beautiful life.
I am happy and excited for what lies ahead for us, but I am sad for her at the same time.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008


This is probably a question that has come up for many of you. The obvious answer to international adoption would have been Latvia. However this isn't really an option for us. Not only does this process require setting up residency in Latvia, but the available situations didn't match up to our own list of priorities.

So we have researched, and attended seminars. What we learned, is that bringing a baby into your family always has risks. Whether it is international, or domestic adoption (or even biological children). The risks and unpredictability involved in domestic adoption and pursuing more biological children is not something we are comfortable with at this time. So international it is, but how do you choose a country?

We first learned about Korea at an international adoption seminar. On paper Korea had everything we had high on our list of priorities. But mostly, Korea is where we feel our child is. I've never really had that moment of clarity, feeling destined or led in some way towards something that is meant to be. Until now.

Thursday, July 10, 2008


I bought myself a Korean cookbook. I know what you are thinking, "But Marcie why don't you learn to make some American dishes first". Haha, you're funny. You will be surprised to know that I actually can cook (especially if given a recipe), I just hate doing it. I figured though, that if I took the time to learn the art of the Latvian Piragi, I better learn to make a Korean Kimchi. First step is finding a Korean restaurant so we can try some Korean food, and have something to compare it to. Second step, find out what Kimchi is.

Monday, July 7, 2008


When we first began our adoption research I visited some adoption message boards. In these boards there was a lot of talk of Plan A. Families were very offended that someone would consider adoption to be "Plan B". I read their stories of infertility and thought, "Isn't it though?". Look how much they have spent and struggled, and mourned their infertility, isn't adoption their
"Plan B".
Then my sister got pregnant. She found a well known and respected specialist to help her through her own pregnancy difficulties. She shared my story with him. He said he wanted to meet me because he was convinced he could help me carry a baby to term. This was the answer to my prayers, i should be happy, right? I was, but not for the reasons I thought I would be. Not because I doubted him (which I did), but because I didn't know if that was what we still wanted. The truth was, I was praying for more children and that prayer was answered when we discovered international adoption. Ahh, Plan A... I get it now.

So Imants and I went out to dinner that night and I wanted to enlighten him with this amazing revelation. I explained how adoption is not "Plan B" and hoped that he would understand this crazy concept. He smiled at me in a way that made me realize that he had been aware of this all along. The only Plan A is to bring more children into our family. How that happens is irrelevant.

It sounds so simple and yet it was so hard for me to figure out. The truth is, I mourn our sons. I grievED the fact that I would not be pregnant again (yes, I'm one of the few that LOVED being pregnant). I realize now that I have NEVER felt badly of not having more biological children. It doesn't matter.
Plan A is still to bring more children into our family. It scared me when I thought that couldn't happen. When I realized that it could; closed doors began to open, the sun came out from behind the clouds, and all was right with the world again.

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

This is the Grumpy House

This is the first thing that Livija said to our social worker. Great first impression, right? Livija is not shy by any means, but it usually takes her a few minutes to warm up to new people. Not tonight. "This is the Grumpy House". Thanks, Liv.

When Lisa, our social worker, called to make this appointment for the homestudy she said, "don't go crazy cleaning the house, and don't be nervous". So naturally, Imants promptly took the day off of work so we could clean and stress all day prior to the meeting.

She was right, there was no need to be nervous. The meeting went great. My nerves were very quickly replaced with excitement as she told us about the process, interviewed us about what led us to adoption, and discussed the type of child we were open to (this included age and possible medical issues). She told us what to expect from our referral day, this is the day we receive information on our child. As well as what to expect from our trip to Korea. Of course she also prepared us for the wait and how to get through it when it became especially difficult, but all I could think of was seeing our child for the first time, and traveling to Korea to bring him home.

This is getting very real and very exciting. We still have a long way to go, but at least we have another step we can cross off the list... Homestudy: Check!!!

And By the way, we're a pretty happy house.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Four years ago Imants and I decided it was time to start our family. Like most couples just starting out, we imagined that this huge decision was the hard part and all that was left was the happy ending. What we soon learned is that the hard part had only just begun and we were preparing for a big roller coaster of emotions. The highs have been VERY high and the lows have been VERY low.

After having our beautiful daughter at 26 weeks, we lost our two sons to unexplained premature labor, we realized that more biological children is just not in the cards for us. We still want more children and luckily, we still believe in happy endings. So with some serious soul searching we are finally on the right path. The path to adoption is also filled with emotional ups and downs, but this time we're prepared. We're prepared and so very excited.
April 1, 2008 we stood before a county clerk, as she notarized our signatures on the application of adoption. For the first time since we made our decision to expand our little family 4 years ago, I felt confident that it would happen again. I am not naive enough to believe there won't be moments of difficulty and frustration, but I am optimistic and hopeful enough to believe that our child is out there waiting to be born into our family.

Our family and friends have celebrated us, with the birth of our daughter, prayed for us through the difficult NICU stay and offered their love and support through both our losses. I hope you'll join us again, following our story of adoption and celebrating with us as we begin our journey to Korea to bring our baby home.