The road to motherhood meant offering up my blood, my sanity, and my heart.
My man and I had all but abandoned the dream of becoming parents after enduring a perfect storm of infertility: miscarriages, ectopic pregnancies, and a devastating failed adoption.
Then out of the blue, a call ignited a spark of hope and within weeks we’d been smittened by two abandoned toddlers in Ciudad Juárez, Mexico, one of the most dangerous cities in North America.
Within months, my American bravado and Greek/Mexican DNA emboldened me to live in Juárez, where I was painstakingly unprepared by the isolation and fear for my sons’ safety while I plowed through a labyrinthine adoption process. Yet my greatest challenges came from within as I confronted the reality of raising two traumatized boys and was rattled by the incessant question and doubt. Had I made the right choice?
