Adopting Willow - Love Beyond Biology: My UK Adoption & Parenthood Journey

Accepting Infertility

“So now what?” That was the question we asked ourselves through tears after two years of trying, testing, failing, and repeating. “I think we should get tested,” I finally said. And just like that, our journey took a new turn. We were told that both I and my husband, Mitchell, were unlikely to conceive even through IVF. Infertile, it felt as if I had just been told I was defective in every possible way.

Our options were limited: Pay for IVF privately – though I was bluntly warned that any clinic willing to accept us was likely just after our money. Or wait up to two years for an invasive surgery that might not even work. If it did, we’d then have to hope we qualified for postcode lottery, NHS-funded IVF and take our slim chances.

I sat there in total disbelief, grappling with the reality that I couldn’t do the one thing I had always believed I was meant to do: become a mother. Adoption is a path I never imagined walking. I always believed that when I was ready to start a family, it would happen effortlessly. The idea that I might struggle to have children never crossed my mind. So when reality proved otherwise, I felt lost, bewildered and bitter that my journey to parenthood wouldn’t be as simple as I had once imagined.

I grieved the dream I thought was set in stone. To be completely honest, this was the hardest part. The adoption process is challenging, but grieving a pregnancy and a child you will never carry is more so. But once we took the time process our emotions, we realised something important: there is more than one way to become a family.

So we had a choice. Was biology worth sacrificing our mental health and well-being? We decided it wasn’t. Biology wouldn’t make me a mother. The way I showed up, raised, nurtured, and loved my child would. And so, we went to the adoption information event. I have written more about this decision in why we chose adoption.

Before diving into the different stages of adoption, I want to address the burning question: How long did it take!?

For us, the entire process from acceptance into Stage 1 to placement day took 10 months. If you count from Stage 1 to the celebration hearing and adoption order, it was 17 months in total. This was far quicker than we expected! We initially thought it would take at least two years, as we had heard stories of people waiting three to five years.

We entered the process in 2023, during a time when COVID-19 had created delays in the court system. While children were still being taken into care, lockdowns had slowed legal proceedings, leading to a backlog of adopters waiting to be matched. By the time we went through the process, many of these children were receiving placement orders, meaning there were sadly more children waiting for adoption than there were adopters. This landscape shifts frequently, but one thing remains true: You will be matched with the right child or children at the right time.

Please note: This post is based on our adoption journey in England. While there are shared principles across the UK, adoption procedures and timelines can vary significantly between England, Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland due to different legal frameworks and agency structures.

Information Event

The information event already had a strong sense of community. Mitchell and I were definitely the youngest in the room, and at first, we felt a little out of place, almost as if we weren’t mature enough or didn’t have the right life experience. But we were quickly reassured: Anyone can adopt. Agencies welcome couples of all ages, solo adopters, members of the LGBTQ+ community, and people of all ethnicities, abilities, and backgrounds. The only condition? The child always comes first. We were reminded that adoption agencies aren’t about finding a child for you, they’re about finding the right parent(s) for the child. And that’s exactly how it should be. We left that event knowing this was our path. That same day, we went home, filled out the Registration of Interest form, and sent it off.

Stage 1

Just before Christmas 2023, we received a letter confirming that we had been accepted into Stage 1. This stage is all about checks and information gathering. We were given two months to complete it (though this can be extended). Both of us needed a DBS check, local authority checks, and a medical check. The medical check took the longest, Mitchell spent nearly a month on the phone just trying to get an appointment with the GP.

Then came the 70-page workbook, arguably one of the most intense workbooks out there! Its purpose, I believe, is to make you deeply reflect on your motivation to adopt and to help the agency get to know you. It covered everything: our childhoods, accomplishments, challenges, experiences, and how we would parent an adopted child. Our assigned social worker would later use this workbook to structure our assessment visits in Stage 2.

I loved filling it out. As an emotional person who enjoys writing, I found it incredibly therapeutic. Mitchell? Not so much. He did his part through gritted teeth, answering in short sentences and muttering, “Why do they need to know all this anyway?” After a lot of nagging, he finally completed it, and we submitted it before the deadline. Mitchell has told his side of the story in Fatherhood through adoption. We also chose our references. Thankfully, we were lucky to have a strong and enthusiastic support network, and our references sent back their responses promptly.

Stage 2 – Training

This stage of the adoption process was given a four-month timeline, though for many, it takes longer. I’ll start with the three-day prep course. Three intense, back-to-back days that left us emotionally drained. We honestly needed another three days just to recover.

The training was thorough, informative, and incredibly intense and emotional. It focused on the difficult realities of why children need adoptive homes. We were asked to consider some tough scenarios, situations that were heart breaking and uncomfortable to hear. The key takeaway was clear: our future child may have experienced trauma, and we needed to be fully prepared for that. This trauma could stem from neglect (intentional or not) or different forms of abuse, examples that were difficult to fully comprehend. The reality is that it’s rare for a child to be willingly relinquished into care. Understanding this was essential, even though it was tough to process

The training covered a range of topics, including:
• Grief and loss – both for the child and the birth family.
• Attachment styles – early experiences shape emotional bonds.
• Therapeutic parenting – techniques to support a child who has faced adversity.
• Trauma responses – how children might express past experiences.
• The adoption process itself – what to expect at each stage.

One of the most valuable parts of the course was hearing directly from an adopter who shared their journey. Their experience gave us insight into the realities of parenting an adopted child. If you’re currently in the process, my advice is simple: take every training opportunity available to you. It helped us immeasurably, both in understanding the challenges ahead and in preparing for the life-changing journey of adoption. Don’t worry, there was also no role play at any of our training!

Stage 2 – Assessment

Once we were assigned our social worker, we scheduled eight weekly visits. We were told that at the end of these meetings, a document called the Prospective Adopters Report (PAR) would be written. This report would include a recommendation on whether or not we should be approved as adopters.

Naturally, we were both very nervous. Other adopters had warned us that these meetings could feel intrusive and intense, and at times, they did. However, when you remind yourself that the purpose of these questions is to ensure you are truly ready and capable of meeting the needs of an adoptive child, you realise just how important they are.

Our social worker covered everything. The first session was together, the next two were separate, and the rest were joint meetings. Along the way, we were given homework exercises and activities. For the most part, we found the assessment enjoyable, we went into it being completely open and honest. You have to be. Adoption isn’t just about becoming a parent; it’s about being equipped to handle a child’s potential trauma, grief, behaviours, and emotions. You have to teach them how to regulate and manage their big feelings, and your social worker needs to see that you’re capable of this.

An Unexpected Turn

This is where our story took an unexpected turn. Typically, once prospective adopters are approved by panel, they join an adoption matching platform. Adopters and social workers explore potential links, and if all parties agree at a linking meeting, they proceed to Matching Panel in hopes of being officially matched.

For us, things played out a little differently. Around visit five, our social worker told us that our assessment was going well and that they would likely recommend us for approval. At that point, we were asked if we would like to start exploring profiles. One particular profile, of a little girl within our age range, had been shown to our social worker. Along with other profiles, it was presented to us to help us understand how matching works. I had seen these profiles before during training, but something felt completely different when I saw her. My Willow.

She had some health concerns, delays, and many unknowns that had caused hesitation among other adopters and prospective adopters. I won’t go into detail, that is Willow’s story to tell, not mine, but because of these uncertainties she was being shown to adopters likely to be approved soon. Our social worker left, and Mitchell and I agreed that we wanted to learn more about her. I felt like I was in a trance, I couldn’t think about anything else. I tried not to get my hopes up, but it was too late, they were up. Mitchell was optimistic but guarded; he didn’t want to get too attached in case the link didn’t work out.

A meeting was arranged with Willow’s social workers, where we learned everything they knew. We were given time to consider whether we wanted to proceed. After a long, in depth discussion, we both felt strongly that we did. The unknowns concerned us of course, but with adoption, and parenting in general, unknowns are simply part of the journey. A linking meeting was arranged, and we were officially considered a good match for Willow. This meant that we had a potential match before we were approved at Approval Panel and yet, it all felt so right. We were terrified that something would go wrong, but I truly believe that fate had already decided. Willow was our daughter.

Approval Panel

I don’t think either of us had ever been more nervous than on the day of Approval Panel. Even though we were reassured social workers don’t recommend adopters unless they’re highly likely to be approved, there’s always that tiny, nagging what if? Voice. We wanted this so desperately. We were taken to a waiting room with our social worker, where the panel chair came in to give us a brief overview of what to expect. Not every local authority does this, some don’t reveal the questions until you walk into the panel.

When we entered the room, eight people sat before us, experienced adopters, adoptees, social care professionals, medical experts, and educators. They greeted us warmly and introduced themselves. Both our hands were shaking as we casually tried to sip water.

The questions were fair and straightforward:
• How would we handle rejection?
• How would we advocate for an adoptive child’s education?
• How would we adapt to the lifestyle changes ahead?

We answered as best we could, and 20 minutes later, it was over. We returned to the waiting room for the decision. This can take as long as needed but ours was quick, around 5 minutes later the panel chair came in and advised we had been approved, unanimously!

Everyone had said yes! We were over the moon. Another step closer to Willow.

Meeting Willow – Foster Carer Meet & Chemistry Visit

I will never forget the day we met Willow. Since she had additional health needs, we were offered a chemistry visit, a visit designed to ensure we felt confident in managing her care. The drive there was unbearable. I was a strange mixture of excitement, nerves, and overwhelming happiness. Her foster carer greeted us warmly. Willow was playing upstairs while we waited in the living room. I heard her before I saw her, her laughter, her babbling. Then, the foster carer carried her into the room. She beamed at us. We were in awe.

For an hour, we chatted with the foster carer, learned about Willow’s routine, and played with her. She was cautious but already a very social child. Seeing her strong attachment to her foster carer was beautiful. We could have stayed there all day, just watching her.

As we drove home, a thought crept into my mind, what if Mitchell doesn’t feel the same? What if the chemistry visit hadn’t felt as powerful for him? Before I could spiral, he spoke, “She’s perfect. I love her. I didn’t expect it to feel so natural.” From that moment, there was no doubt in our minds. Willow was ours. Our daughter.

That night, I sat for hours watching the videos our social worker had taken. “Are you watching that video again?” Mitchell joked. I couldn’t stop daydreaming about coming home day. But first, we had one more hurdle, Matching Panel.

Matching Panel

Two weeks later, it was time for Matching Panel. Everyone had told us that this panel usually feels more relaxed, it follows the same format, and by this point, you’re already approved. It’s mostly a formality.
But for me and Mitchell agreed, this was harder than Approval Panel. Maybe it was because of what was at stake. Becoming an approved adopter had been one dream, but becoming Willow’s mum was the dream.

The panel was still friendly, but it felt more formal. The questions were deeply personal to Willow’s story, so I won’t share them here, but they were fair and expected. I worried that I hadn’t been as articulate as I was in Approval Panel. I was emotional. It lasted around half an hour. The wait for the decision felt agonising.

We knew all parties were in agreement that we were the right match. But still, until we heard those words, the nerves wouldn’t leave. Around 10 minutes later another unanimous yes! I cried this time. I looked at Mitchell welling up and we had the longest hug. This was it, confirmed. Our girl was coming home.

Transitions

We had heard a lot about transitions during training. Our plan was set: two weeks of play dates followed by two weeks of official transitions. Play dates could begin before the ADM decision if the panel unanimously agreed, so they were scheduled to start the following week.

The week leading up to play dates was spent shopping! An exciting part of the process. We had already decorated the spare bedroom; now, it just needed to be filled. Our foster carer sent a list of essentials, and we made sure everything was in place before transitions began. Looking back, I’m so glad we did, transitions were amazing but utterly exhausting.

In the lead-up, we also had a few video calls with Willow and her foster carers. We sent videos of ourselves singing nursery rhymes so Willow could get used to our voices. After a couple of glasses of wine, we managed to record a version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star that I still refuse to re-watch to this day!

Speaking to her foster carers was lovely. We knew we were incredibly lucky, they were friendly, patient, and knowledgeable, and it was clear they genuinely loved Willow. As introductions approached, reality set in. For us, this was the happiest, most exciting time of our lives. But for Willow and her foster carers, this transition also meant a loss. We had to be patient and take things at her pace.

The first day of introductions couldn’t come fast enough, I was eager to see her again. We brought a transitional toy: a teddy bear and a blanket we had slept with to carry our scent. During play dates, Willow would play and sleep with them in her cot. We were advised to keep as much the same as possible: washing powder, bath products, routines, because, at her age, everything was experienced through sensory familiarity rather than verbal explanations.

As we walked in, she smiled, as if she recognised us from the video calls. She let out an excited squeal and proudly showed us her toys in her playroom. At this stage, she was only comfortable with her foster carer in the room, and we knew we had to gain her trust. My heart swelled just being near her again. All I wanted to do was scoop her up and give her the biggest hug. But then it dawned on me, we were still strangers to her. I had known this intellectually, but feeling it in that moment was different. It was a reminder that we needed to take things slowly and let her lead the way. Mitchell felt the same, and we finally understood why everyone said introductions and transitions were so emotionally exhausting, it’s a mental and emotional balancing act.

That was just day one! But it couldn’t have gone better. As the days passed, she became more trusting, more comfortable. “Oh, it’s these two again,” she must have thought. Before we knew it, our two weeks of play dates were over, and it was time for official transitions.

This was the phase where we gradually took over her care bit by bit, eventually transitioning her into her forever home. Those two weeks were the most exhausting yet magical of our lives. It’s surreal to be in the middle of something so deeply emotional and life-changing while the rest of the world carries on as normal. The long days, constant travelling, ups and downs (like realising how tricky nappies really are), and overwhelming joy, it was a whirlwind.

We stayed in a hotel a few nights so we could do her bath and bedtime routine and be there when she woke up in the morning. Every little moment felt like a privilege. She was everything. I had never felt such intense love for someone so quickly. The bond was there from day one, for both Mitchell and me. This was it. We were right in the middle of it. And soon, it would be Coming Home Day.

Coming Home Day

The day she moved in for good, her forever home. As we pulled up outside her foster carer’s house, emotions flooded in. We felt immense gratitude, joy, and excitement, but also sadness, knowing this was a hard day for her foster carers and their family. They had loved Willow, and we would always be grateful for the care and warmth they had given her in her early life. I couldn’t wait to tell Willow all about them one day.

On the drive home, I couldn’t stop crying, a mix of emotions overwhelming me. I glanced at her, happily babbling away in her car seat, and felt pure gratitude. The long transition period had been worth it. By taking things at her pace, she was ready. She felt safe, she felt content, and that was all that mattered in those first precious weeks. We would have a lifetime to strengthen the bond day by day. By showing up for her, holding her emotions, guiding and teaching her but most importantly loving her.

Welcoming Willow

I’m going to be completely honest, we threw ourselves into the adoption process headfirst. We thought so much about adopting that the parenting part had almost become a side note. Of course, we prepared as much as possible: we read all the adoption and therapeutic parenting books, completed a course on adverse childhood experiences, and gained as much hands-on experience as we could by babysitting and caring for family members’ children. But nothing truly prepares you for the reality of it. I believe this is true for all parents, no matter how their children come into their lives.

You gradually realise your life is completely different. It felt wonderful to be a mum, but that didn’t stop me from feeling in over my head, like I was swimming against the tide. We slowly built new routines and focused on self-care whenever possible.

When I think back to that first month, it’s a blur, a complete whirlwind. But there are moments I’ll never forget: her first night with us, the way she beamed up at me from her cot in the mornings, the first time she called me “Mama.”

We stuck to her schedule like clockwork. I hoped that a stable routine would help soften the blow of her loss, to help her feel safe. I think it did, but she was grieving. She didn’t know it, and she couldn’t express it, but of course, she was. Young children experience loss just as deeply as adults do; they simply don’t have the words to tell you about it. All we could do was be there for her, to show her, every day, that we were here whenever she needed us.

Not everything went perfectly or smoothly. On the hard days, we put a pin in it and tried again the next day. She settled in so well, and that’s a testament to what an amazing little girl she is. Our family and support network absolutely adore her. She will always be surrounded by people who love, cherish, and advocate for her.

And that’s our journey, though, in many ways, it’s only just beginning.

Looking back, I see how far we’ve come, not just as parents, but as a family. Adoption is not the end of a journey; it’s the beginning of a lifetime of love, learning, and growth. There were challenges, moments of doubt, and days that felt overwhelming, but every single part of this journey led us to Willow.

I have to say, adoption is the most wonderful thing I have ever been part of. I would take the heartbreak of infertility, every tear, and all the hurt a million times over for Willow. As I said at the start, adoption is often born from pain and loss, but what a beautiful way to turn it into something wonderful. Adoption made us a family, and that’s the greatest gift of all. Now as I watch my child grow, laugh and dream, one thing is certain: Willow was always meant to be ours, and we were always meant to be hers.

Adopting Willow: Our Journey to Becoming a Family Through Adoption