My name is Greggory Lewis-Cohen.  I live in Naples, Florida, with my partner, Thaddeus Cohen, and our newly adopted little boy, Chi-Hoon, who is six years old.  We adopted him from South Korea.  He came just a few short months ago, and our lives have been incredibly good since he arrived.

Actually, the adoption process started over a year ago.  It was a long, tedious, drawn-out process; yet we never gave up hope that we would have a child.  We both wanted desperately to have a son to love and cherish.

About six months ago, we received word that we were to become the parents of a sweet-faced little boy with apple cheeks, a thatch of thick, black hair, and dark eyes that tilted upwards.  He was crushingly cute.  He was the typical heartbreak kid: he was adorable!  We both fell in love with the boy immediately.

While we waited for Chi Hoon's arrival, we got a little boy's bed and got his room in order.  We got him all the toys a little boy could possibly enjoy: toy cars, trains, and trucks, new football, baseball (with glove), soccer ball, basketball (complete with hoop, which we put outside), a video game system, and new clothes, underwear, socks, and shoes.  Our son was going to be one of the best-dressed little boys in our block.

Unfortunately, some people said that we were going to do the wrong thing because as a gay couple, we would be "poisoning" our little boy's mind.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  We wanted nothing more to than to love him, teach him things, and be the best fathers we could possibly be to our son.  We both know plenty of gay (or lesbian) couples who are better parents than most "straight" (or typical) parents.

Then came the call that changed everything.  The call was the adoption agency, saying that Chi-Hoon was clear to arrive in America; he would be arriving in a few weeks.  The anticipation and excitement we both felt was akin to a kid on Christmas morning: we couldn't wait any longer.  We had to have our son here, with us, here in America.

The day that Chi-Hoon came to America was a day I or Thaddeus would never forget.  When we first caught sight of him, holding the hand of the escort who traveled with him, we both cried like babies.  We were not ashamed to show our emotion.  We gathered our brand new son into our arms and we held on tight; neither one of us didn't want to let go of him.

It seemed to be nothing but a dream, but it wasn't: here Chi-Hoon was, here, in America, as big (or small) as life.  He was beautiful!  He'd grown several inches since we'd started the adoption process, but that was okay.  The important thing was this: Chi-Hoon was now here.  He was ours, forever and ever.  Nothing (or nobody) could ever break us apart: we were, at long last, a family.

It's now been a month since Chi-Hoon arrived, and everything is still fresh, new, exciting for him.  He is picking up English at an incredibly fast rate; both Thad and myself think he might be gifted (we plan on having him tested).  He is very smart for his age.  He is a happy-natured, ever giggling child, and he's already told us that he loves us.  Well, the feeling's mutual: we love him as well.