Please welcome the newest mama-to-bee to Hellobee, Mrs. Polish!


I cannot even begin to tell you how excited I am to be posting here at Hellobee! The most exciting part for me is that I’m posting as a soon-to-be mom, which is something I doubted would ever happen.
I guess our story starts in 1991, when we started kindergarten. Kind of a weird place to start, right? Right.

Our first year of school is when I met Mr. Polish. Now I’ll be honest and say that my memories of those first years are blurry, perhaps because of the glue, but even though I know Mr. P was there the entire time, I don’t clearly remember him until fifth grade when we had the same teacher. It would be pretty creepy if I said at this point I knew I was in love with him and knew I would marry him someday. So I won’t. Because I didn’t. He was the weird kid who pretended he cut his finger off on the paper cutter to scare  me (and did he ever). He was the one who got out of class to go to Space Camp. Nerd. So no, I did not have a clue that my future husband sat a few rows back.

Middle school was probably the same for you as it was for me. It was awkward. So awkward. Mr. P was there too. Not a lot to report here. We were friends, in the way that middle schoolers are.

And then one day when we were 16, Mr. P. showed up at my house. Just like that. Just showed up. Friends do that, right? We didn’t start dating that night, mostly because he took me to Steak and Shake and asked if I wanted to pay for dinner or the movie (but we count that as our first date).

When you’re 16, nothing matters. The future is so far away. So when I was 21 and Mr. P asked me to be his wife, the immediate future held lots of white taffeta and red peonies, and a bit further away were the babies.  I find that a lot of people think that high school sweethearts have this fairy tale life. It’s like there is a standard that is held to couples who met so young. You meet in school, you get married, and you have lots of babies. That is just how it is. At least in the Midwest. Yee haw, ya’ll.


I’ve known that I have PCOS since I was 12 years old. I was diagnosed then because of my unending periods. When we got serious about trying to conceive, I went off of the pill and didn’t expect anything to happen for six months or so. My OB/GYN told me to call if nothing happened within six months, so I did. Eventually I tried Clomid, and we saw a Reproductive Endocrinologist. We stuck with the RE for a few months, but when they began to recommend more intensive/expensive treatments, we decided to back off for personal and financial reasons.

At the time, our plan was to hold off until the beginning of the year and then figure out what our next step was. But just when we decided to take a step back from fertility treatments, our birth mom found us.

We are aware, as you probably will be as you keep reading, that our situation is anything but the norm. Once my best friend told me that she heard and believes that our children’s souls find us. I hadn’t heard that before she said it, but honestly, it applies to us so well.

We’ve finished our home study process, have our attorney on standby, and are preparing for the birth of our first child in less than a month. Everything is being handled locally. We live in the same city as the birth family. We’ve had lunch with the birth father. I speak with the birth mom often, though not always consistently. I’ve met all of her children, and they know who I am. I go to her checkups, and we had the ultrasound done together. I’ve taken her to the hospital for two false alarms.  If I were to paint a rosy picture of this for you, I would be lying. Adoption is hard, but as I read in a book, childbirth is as well.

That is where we are right now. We’re taking life day by day, and anxiously awaiting the arrival of our child. I cannot wait to be a mother, and even more, I cannot wait to see my husband as a father. It has been something I’ve wanted to give him for three years, and we’re finally there.

I’m super excited that you want to follow us along this journey of us not only becoming parents, but managing a new family, establishing boundaries, and learning how to be parents. As a transracial family we will have a lot to learn, but we’re welcoming the changes with open arms. And hearts.