My adoption story begins as most do: with a woman who finds herself pregnant but not ready to parent or able to bring a child into her family. My birth mother already had four children and made the noble choice to find an adoption attorney, who then connected her with a couple who couldn’t have biological children.
The year my adoption took place was 1967, a period when closed adoptions were the norm. I grew up not knowing anything about my birth mother or father — and was even made fun of by some classmates in elementary school for being adopted. Fortunately, my adoptive parents instilled a sense of confidence in me because I was an adopted child. The mixed-income/middle-class Anaheim neighborhood we moved to when I was in the sixth grade had a surprisingly high ratio of kids who were adopted, and we had a unique bond. Back then, psychotherapy wasn’t common in our circles, but my friend group was open and honest about sharing our feelings, and those of us who were adopted were known and appreciated for our adoption stories by the time we matured and reached high school.
As I grew into adulthood, I still had a longing to meet the woman who carried me for nine months and made the choice for adoption for me. My desire may have been more intense because my adoptive mother passed away from cancer when I was only eight years old. I felt I had lost two mothers.
I was 26 years old when I finally connected with my birth mom. At last, I saw someone who I looked like, shared mannerisms with, and learned more about the family that she raised, which included two younger sons she had after I was born.
Most of my biological family members met last Thanksgiving for a wonderful meal. The fun-loving jokes never stopped about me being the only daughter and how I “got away” from the crazy brothers. They are genuinely happy for me that I had an idyllic childhood living near Disneyland, traveled, went to college and grew up in beautiful Orange County, California.
The openness we have now as adults could have started decades ago, though, if my adoption wasn’t private.
Open adoptions are now common and even recommended, not only for the child but for the adoptive parents and the birth parents. I have witnessed the power of open adoptions on the birth mother’s side as well as the child’s side. During President Bill Clinton’s term, he designated November 1995 as National Adoption Month, intending to raise awareness about the power of adoption, with a special focus on bringing attention to the children in foster care waiting for their forever families.
I know that I was incredibly blessed to have been adopted soon after my birth. It was a gift I’ll never take for granted, as being raised in a loving home as soon as I left the hospital helped me attach to my adoptive parents. Children raised in the foster care system sadly face many challenges that the public isn’t aware of; being a nation that focuses on adoption could help hundreds of thousands of children and teens.
According to 2024 foster care statistics, nearly 330,000 youth were in the foster care system in the United States, with approximately a third of these children and teens eligible for adoption. Each year, 18,000 to 20,000 children “age out” of the foster care system, and thus face a high risk of homelessness and lack of employment. Another shocking statistic is that one-fifth of the U.S. prison population has been in foster care.
Because of my own adoption story, and after many years of volunteering with Olive Crest, a foster family agency based in Southern California, my husband (now deceased) and I decided that we’d apply to foster and adopt an older youth. Olive Crest provided in-depth training and certification, and prepared us as we were introduced to a teenager who was looking for a forever family. There were many challenges along the way, and I felt unqualified to step in as an adoptive mother. Our child’s CASA (Court Appointed Special Advocate) and the social workers at Olive Crest and the Los Angeles County Department of Children and Family Services were superheroes and some of the most dedicated people I’ve ever met.
My work with Save the Storks, a national ministry with a mission to create a story of hope and empowerment for every woman facing an unplanned pregnancy, gives me the platform to share the beauty of adoption with women who may not feel ready to parent. I’ve been introduced to remarkable organizations like Orange County Rescue Mission and Dream Center in Los Angeles that are helping emancipated foster youth with housing, education, finances and career development.
It is my greatest hope that we all think about adoption and how we can step up and better serve birth moms, adoptive parents, preborn babies and children in the foster care system.
Every human being deserves a beautiful life.
Diane Ferraro is a nationally recognized pro-life leader, adoption advocate, and the CEO of Save the Storks, one of America’s most innovative life-affirming organizations. With over 30 years of experience in marketing, brand development, and nonprofit strategy, Diane has been instrumental in expanding Save the Storks’ reach — growing its Mobile Medical Clinic (Stork Bus) program, strengthening the National Partner Program, and driving outreach in communities most impacted by high preborn loss rates. Since joining Save the Storks in 2018, Diane has led strategic initiatives to equip pregnancy health clinics, forge strong church partnerships, and develop life-affirming alternatives that support women facing unplanned pregnancies.
