Kyle and I met back at the start of 2011. I reached out on social media because, honestly, I thought Kyle was cute. We messaged back and forth for about a month, slowly getting to know each other, before finally exchanging numbers and setting up our first date at the movies. From that very first evening, there was a spark—and we’ve been practically inseparable ever since.
It didn’t take long for Kyle to realize what he wanted in life. Within six months of our relationship, he told me he wanted a family with me. Growing up, he had always imagined being a dad, and the idea excited him beyond measure. But at 21, living with our parents, it wasn’t the right time. I made a deal with him: once we had our own home and, hopefully, got married, we could start thinking about a family. So we dated, traveled, and enjoyed our young adult lives together. We moved into an apartment, then a townhouse, got engaged in 2015, and married in July 2017. Keeping my word meant the next step—children—was now on the horizon.
We began exploring our options. Private adoption was the first route we considered, but the costs—$20,000 to $30,000—felt impossible. Surrogacy came next, but the financial burden, combined with the idea of finding a woman to carry our child, felt overwhelming. The whole process seemed almost transactional, like a bizarre dating show where the prize wasn’t a partner—it was a baby.
That left us with one realistic option: foster-to-adopt. It was logical, financially feasible, and aligned with our goal of growing a family. Once we committed, we went all in. Kyle and I are not half-measure people—we dive fully into anything we do. We knew the path would be long and sometimes exhausting, but the possibility of bringing children into our lives made it worth it.
The certification process itself was an education. Becoming licensed foster parents took months—usually up to a year—and involved more paperwork than buying a house. We attended training, parenting classes, and educational modules. Our home underwent a thorough inspection: baby-proofed cabinets, child-safe outlets, and accessible fire extinguishers were just the beginning. Background checks, interviews alone and together, and constant scrutiny ensured we were prepared for the responsibility.
The process was exhausting, but it made sense. Agencies needed to ensure we were motivated by love and care, not money. Horror stories shared by caseworkers were sobering reminders of why the vetting was so intense. These interviews were designed to make us reflect deeply on our motives, capabilities, and boundaries. When asked about the age, race, or sex of the child we were comfortable fostering, our answer was simple: a newborn. Nothing else mattered. It was less about preference and more about understanding our capacity to give love where it was most needed.
Immersing ourselves in this process was overwhelming at times. The reality of fostering meant the child in our care could eventually return to a biological family. That truth, which initially terrified me, was tempered by Kyle’s calm presence. He helped ground me when my anxiety surged, reminding me of our ultimate goal: love and care for a child in need. The classes and training weren’t trying to scare us off—they made the reality of fostering unmistakably clear: this work would demand patience, resilience, and an open heart.
Family and friends became our support system, cheering us on at every step. Not everyone understood or supported our journey, and some said hurtful things. But Kyle and I understood these comments came from fear, ignorance, or insecurity. Growing up as queer individuals had prepared us to respond with patience, honesty, and grace.
Through dedication, research, and a lot of determination, we fast-tracked the process and became certified foster parents in six months. Then came the call we had been waiting for. Our first placement was a tiny, four-day-old baby. We named him Keon. He was delicate, withdrawing, and vibrated like a cell phone in the first few months—a side effect of his early exposure to drugs in utero. Thankfully, he didn’t need medication for that, but he was diagnosed with severe asthma at just five months old. We quickly learned how to navigate these challenges, guided by medical professionals and each other.
As we settled into life as new dads, our family unexpectedly expanded. Six months later, we welcomed Keon’s older sibling, Shaun, who was almost two and a half. He had been in a turbulent situation, experiencing foster care and then living with a relative who didn’t provide a healthy environment. Non-verbal and prone to physical outbursts, Shaun challenged us daily. Therapy was recommended, and it became the most valuable decision we made for him.
Our household was full, chaotic, and demanding—managing a newborn with breathing issues alongside a fiery toddler tested every ounce of patience, love, and energy we had. There were tears, sleepless nights, and constantly evolving routines. But there were also small victories, unspoken bonds, and moments of pure joy. Over time, both boys flourished. Their personalities blossomed, and they became deeply attached to us as we guided them through first steps, first words, and countless milestones.
After nearly a year and a half of fostering, we were finally presented with the option to adopt. Our hearts soared. However, a surprise twist awaited: a relative of the boys challenged our adoption, questioning our ability as two men to parent them. The anxiety in the months leading to the court date was immense, and yes, a few new gray hairs appeared. But on that day, the judge ruled in our favor. She looked us in the eyes and said, “Wow. Thank you for everything you have done and will continue to do.” We held each other’s hands and cried, relieved that the children we loved so fiercely were finally—and permanently—ours.
We also never lost sight of the boys’ mother, whose pain was unimaginable. We developed a bond with her, kept open communication via a private social media account, and ensured she remained a presence in their lives. We speak of her with love and respect, giving the boys access to her through photos and updates while honoring the unique circumstances that brought us together.
In May 2020, the adoption was finalized. In 2021, we celebrated their first “Gotcha Day” in our new home. Our boys are thriving—healthy, happy, and curious—enjoying their expansive backyard and the life we are building together.
For anyone considering fostering or foster-to-adopt, our advice is simple: prepare for challenges, communicate openly with your partner, and embrace patience, flexibility, and love. The path is not for the faint-hearted, but for those ready to open their hearts, the rewards are immeasurable. There are children waiting for a family willing to love them fiercely. Dive in—you won’t regret it.
