The Adoption Battle That Tested Our Love—and Our Courage
My name is Eric. I’m thirty-six, and I learned that adoption isn’t about paperwork. It’s about love, law, and the moments when the two collide.
Megan and I have been together since college. I first noticed her sitting cross-legged on her dorm bed, laptop open, baby-name book beside her. I teased her, and she just smiled. That was Megan: prepared, hopeful, stubbornly soft.
Years later, after marriage, we tried for a child. Not casually—we spent eight years on clinics, injections, apps, calendars, and heartbreak disguised as “maybe this cycle.” We lost two pregnancies early. Megan folded her grief into herself quietly, her silence louder than words.
Eventually, we started looking at adoption. Megan wanted a newborn. She wanted the first cry, the first swaddle, the first gaze that says, I know this is home.
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