I've wanted to adopt kids for as long as I can remember.

It started in the church, I think when they gave members the opportunity to sponsor a child in need that lives in another country. My family sponsored a little girl from India named Jinsy who had recently been orphaned and put out on the streets.

All we had was a picture of her, her original letters to our family, and the agency's translations of them into English. I fell in love with her sparkling eyes, colorful dresses and spiraling penmanship. With this love for a person I had never met was an accompanying empathy for her situation.

My parents' relationship was far from happy or healthy, but I felt so guilty for having two parents that loved me when hers were no longer on this earth. I had a roof over my head, a family to care for me, and food on the table every night when, before our sponsorship, she didn't even know where her next meal would come from.

My compassion for her was overwhelming. I remember wishing I could reach into the photo to give her a hug and tell her I was praying for her.

The years went by, Jinsy aged out of the program, and I was swept up in the image of having my own pretty baby one day that I could decorate in blue or pink and to love and care for always. The only thing atypical about that fantasy was that I couldn't picture a man in the situation.

In fact, my sisters tease me now about my plans as a little kid to get married, have three daughters, kill off my husband and then live happily-ever-after with a female "friend" who would live with me to care for the girls.

Now I know what you're probably thinking, and yes, the denial was very real with this one.

Regardless, the older I got, the more time I spent around babies. I had the honor of having a hand in raising my little sister, two little brothers, and my niece and nephew. This included everything from babysitting to diaper changes. While I'll never regret these relationships and the experience I gained from them, by the time I hit twenty I was all babied-out.

Even more worrisome than the babies themselves was the pregnancy part. I had never relished in the idea of giving birth, but witnessing it first-hand was unbearable. The whole idea of having a thing growing inside you, taking your nutrients and totally dictating your life for nine months was completely revolting. After seeing the pain my mom and sister experienced, the inconvenience of it all and considering all of the complications that could arise, I decided pretty easily that biological children just weren't for me.

While this was all happening, I learned from many of my friends who had been through the foster system just how difficult that kind of childhood is. My upbringing wasn't perfect, but my heart absolutely ached for the losses they all experienced. Even more alarming was that each of these four friends who spent time in foster care had experienced sexual abuse at the hands of their foster families.

Though I know this isn't representative of the entirety of the foster system, hearing their narratives—all the fear, confusion and pain they endured—was enough to put the idea in my mind to eventually become a foster parent, to give at least a small portion of these kids a place where their safety would never be in question.

Around that same time, I was labeling myself as bisexual and dating a man.

I told my boyfriend at the time that I never wanted to be pregnant, to which he answered that he wouldn't love a child that wasn't biologically his. He also required a son from me should we get married. That was the nail in the coffin both for our relationship and any prospect of having my own kids.

Now I'm totally in love with the idea of fostering kids.

I want to do everything in my power to provide as many kids as possible with a happy and safe home. I'm more motivated now by the want to foster than I am by finding a wife.

As outlandish as it sounds, I've actually received a lot of push-back on this conclusion. People don't want me to foster because I'm gay, insisting that my biology requires me to bear children, or load me with stories of their own personal experiences to try and spook me out of it.

But the way I see it is as long as there's a surplus of children who need love and I have all this love to give, I'll be there to take care of those kids in need as soon as I possibly can.

And that's a promise my future foster-babies can count on.