“Goth teens shouldn’t be raising a baby.”
That sentence followed us everywhere. From whispered judgments to open doubt, people saw black clothes, dark makeup, and youth — and decided they already knew our limits. When Jack and I said we wanted to adopt, they assumed it was rebellion, a phase, a mistake waiting to happen. They were wrong. We weren’t playing at adulthood. We were preparing for it with intention.
Late at night, while others dismissed us, I read everything I could about children stuck in the system — especially the babies labeled “hard to place.” The ones with Down syndrome. The ones passed over again and again. The idea that a child could grow up believing they were unwanted broke something open inside me. No baby should ever feel like a last choice.
At the adoption house, files were stacked with warnings. Medical notes. Red flags. And then we saw Noah’s.
“Needs extra support.”
“Unlikely to be adopted quickly.”
When we met him, there was no dramatic moment. No fear. Just certainty. He sat quietly, eyes wide, studying the room like he was already figuring out the world. In that instant, we didn’t see labels. We saw our son. And we said yes — without hesitation.
Love didn’t magically make things easy. We learned everything the hard way: therapies, IEP meetings, doctor visits, routines that demanded patience and stamina. We showed up to classrooms where people doubted us before we spoke. We answered questions that stung. We stayed calm when others underestimated us. And through it all, Noah grew — not just stronger, but confident, curious, and deeply loved. Today, he stands in a graduation gown, diploma in hand, smiling straight at us. Not because we proved anyone wrong — but because he was always capable. He just needed someone to believe first.
We were “goth teens” once.
Now we’re parents. His parents.
And if loving fiercely, choosing intentionally, and standing by a child no one else chose makes us different — then we wear that label with pride 🖤✨
Because love doesn’t look one way.
And family doesn’t ask permission to exist.