Three years ago, on July 26, 2018, my future wife and I shared our first kiss—a moment that would launch us on a whirlwind journey full of love, heartbreak, and unexpected joy. We met at the store where I worked. At the time, we were both married to our second spouses. Becky had five children and had recently left the Mormon church. She had come out as a lesbian and was in the process of leaving her husband. I, too, was trapped in a deeply unhappy marriage and needed help finding a way out. Meeting each other at that exact moment felt like fate. Initially, I had intended to hire her as a caretaker for my 2-year-old son, who has autism, but it quickly became clear that Becky was meant to be so much more than that.
We both left our husbands and moved in together, bringing our families into one home. At that point, four of her five children still lived with her, and I brought my little boy. Blending our families was far from a perfect fairy tale. Becky is 15 years older than I am, and I am 15 years older than her youngest son, which created challenges for her children and extended family. Some of her kids accepted her same-sex relationship, but not everyone was happy about it.
Her youngest two children bonded with me the most. I spent a lot of time with her daughter, Hannah, who was 15 at the time. She was home more often than the other kids and was the most accepting of her mother leaving the church and embracing her truth. By October 2018, Hannah had even given me her blessing to propose to her mom—unbeknownst to me, Becky had secretly enlisted Hannah to help with her own surprise proposal! It was incredible to have her support and approval.
But then tragedy struck. In November 2018, Becky, her two youngest, and my 2-year-old joined me at my family’s Thanksgiving dinner. The day was perfect—we ate, laughed, played games, and for the first time, I truly felt like part of a family. That evening, Hannah went to a friend’s birthday party and was in a terrible car accident. We spent the next two weeks at the PICU, holding onto hope while she lay in a coma. On December 7, 2018, Hannah became an organ donor, saving several lives. We had only been together for less than six months, and while this could have shattered us, it instead strengthened our love and commitment to each other.
The following summer, I took Becky and her two sons to California to visit my family. During that trip, I re-proposed to Becky, honoring the woman she had become—the woman who carried immense sorrow yet remained strong. It was a healing, meaningful family trip, and we even scattered some of Hannah’s ashes into the Pacific Ocean, keeping her memory close.
Family challenges continued. Becky’s middle child, who had just turned 18 and graduated high school, disowned her because she didn’t approve of our relationship. Her eldest child also struggled to accept me, as we never had a chance to truly get to know each other. With her oldest already married and expecting a child, Becky faced the heartbreak of losing connections with three of her children in less than a year. Yet the two who embraced us helped us feel secure, forming a family of five: Becky, me, and our three sons, ages 20, 13, and 3 at the time.
Becky’s family is mostly Mormon, except for her older brother, who had left the church years earlier and come out as gay. He fully supported us, even flying us to New York in October 2019 so we could marry. Originally, we had planned a February 2020 wedding, but realized half her children wouldn’t attend. Seizing the chance to elope, we celebrated on the beach at Coney Island exactly one year after Becky proposed to me. Her brother officiated, and we brought some of Hannah’s ashes to scatter in the Atlantic. Her oldest daughter reacted with a casual “cool,” while her other children struggled with our absence.
In 2020, I underwent weight loss surgery. After Hannah’s death, I had gained 60 pounds, tipping the scale over 300 pounds at 5’2”. Over 13 months, I lost more than 100 pounds—a transformation that was both physical and emotional. That year also brought more changes: our oldest, now 22, came out as transgender. From that moment, we have used she/her pronouns and her chosen name, Olivia. Our family already had experience with gender transitions—my dad, my biological mother, had transitioned when I was eight, and my ex-husband, Olivia’s biological father, also came out as transgender in 2020. So welcoming Olivia’s true self was a natural and loving step for us.
We immediately helped Olivia access a new doctor, clothes, and all the support she had longed for. I also adopted her and Becky’s youngest son, helping Olivia legally change her name and giving both children a fresh start. Olivia had struggled through bullying in high school and even dropped out. In 2021, we invited her to live with us, complete her GED, and move forward with her life. Today, she is GED-certified and legally recognized as Olivia, starting a new chapter with confidence and joy.
Our family is happy, full, and busy. We have our home, five dachshunds, four cats, a bunny, two axolotls, 11 chickens, and several fish tanks. We homeschool the younger children and work from home. Yet we still feel the weight of our losses. We miss Hannah, and Becky grieves the daughters she has distanced from. We take life one day at a time, cherishing the three children who are with us.
Despite every hardship—loss, societal judgment, family strife, age differences, religion, and even death—we remain strong. Our love has only deepened, and this year, we celebrate our second wedding anniversary. Our story proves that it’s never too late to follow your heart, embrace your truth, and build the family you want. No matter the obstacles—age, gender, religion, or heartbreak—love, acceptance, and courage can guide you to the life you’ve always dreamed of.
