A Love Worth Crossing Borders For: How Colombia Gave Me a Family and a New Purpose

“A Love Worth Crossing Borders For: How Colombia Gave Me a Family and a New Purpose”

Some love stories begin by chance.

Ours began with faith—and a flight.

It was June 2019 when I met Katherine on Latin Cupid. I was temporarily working in Puerto Rico at the time. What started as lighthearted chats quickly turned into something deeper. We talked through WhatsApp—every morning, every night. Her laugh became my peace. Her face, even through a screen, felt like home.

By August, I had returned to Florida—and a few days later, I booked a flight to Colombia.

I had to meet her. I needed to see if what we felt was real.

At the airport in Barranquilla, I saw her before she saw me—standing alone, speaking softly on her phone. Her long black hair shimmered in the light. When our eyes met, she smiled like she'd been waiting her whole life for this moment. So did I.

In the taxi, she rested her head on my shoulder. I leaned in and breathed in the scent of her hair—coffee and vanilla. She noticed. When we locked eyes again, it was as if the world paused. A quiet look that said: “I still can’t believe this is real.”

Then, we kissed.

That kiss wasn't just romantic—it was healing. In that moment, I felt something click in my soul. I felt chosen. And for the first time in a long time, I felt whole.

I felt calm. I felt… home.

“I Knew She Was the One”

That first week in Colombia felt like a lifetime I never wanted to end. Before I flew back, I asked her to be my girlfriend. She smiled and said yes.

We built our relationship across thousands of miles—me in Florida, then Illinois; her in Barranquilla. But no amount of distance could undo what was growing between us. I came back that December to spend Christmas and New Year’s with her. This time, I met her family.

I had planned to stay in a hotel—but they wouldn’t let me. They insisted I stay in their home. That was the first time in years I felt unconditional warmth from a family. They accepted me with open arms. No questions. No conditions. Just love.

On my third visit, in April 2020, I met her two boys. They weren’t biologically mine—but in every way that matters, they are my sons. They taught me what it really means to be a father—to show up, to protect, to guide, and to love even when it's hard.

“Trading Comfort for Commitment”

After more than a year of long-distance love, I asked my employer if I could continue working remotely from Colombia. When they said yes, I didn’t hesitate. I packed up my life in the U.S. and moved toward something real.

Our first home together was small and noisy—located in Hipódromo, a bustling neighborhood near the airport. Buses rumbled by constantly, and motorcycles zipped past all day. But I didn’t care. We were under one roof. That’s all that mattered.

Later, we moved to a larger, quieter apartment in Nuevo Horizonte. Rent was around $300/month. It felt like a fresh start. I had space to work, and we had peace to grow.

And just when life was settling down— the impossible happened.

Katherine told me she was pregnant.

“The Miracle I Was Told I’d Never Have”

I was stunned.

Doctors had told me years ago that my chances of fathering a child were very low—somewhere between 6% and 12%. I had long made peace with that.

So when Katherine told me the test was positive, I didn’t believe her.

We took five more tests.

All positive.

Still, I needed certainty. We got a blood test.

It came back 99.9% pregnant.

I cried.

Cried because I didn’t think I’d ever be called “Dad.” Cried because God gave me something I had quietly grieved long ago.

I broke down crying—tears of joy, disbelief, gratitude, and awe. After everything I had been through, this… this was a miracle.

We moved once more to make space for the baby, this time, to make room for a nursery. I bought a crib, a stroller, baby clothes—everything I could, even before we knew if it was a boy or girl.

I was ready to be a father.

But that joy didn’t come without fear.

“Fighting for Two Lives”

But life didn’t let us stay in that joy for long.

Early in the pregnancy, doctors told us the baby was high-risk. Katherine is a breast cancer survivor. During her pregnancy exams, her bloodwork showed active cancer cells, and she was classified as Level 5 high-risk, the most serious rating in Colombia. No regular OB/GYN would touch her case.

One doctor advised us to terminate the pregnancy—for her safety.

“You should terminate the pregnancy. Continuing could end her life.”

Katherine didn’t even blink. She said:

“No. I will not give up on this baby. God will help us.”

I was terrified. But when I looked into her eyes—those fierce, determined eyes—I knew I had to match her courage. I stood beside her, and together we found Dr. Miguel Parra Saavedra, a specialist in maternal-fetal medicine. Along with a gynecologic oncologist he trusted, they walked with us through every painful, terrifying step. Our insurance didn’t cover them.

Every visit cost $100–$300. I paid it all out of pocket. And I’d do it again a thousand times over.

Because I believed.

“One Final Storm Before the Light”

With everything going on, I stopped the K-1 visa process to focus on Katherine’s health. Two months before the baby was due, my company—where I had worked for 15 years—eliminated my role. I was devastated.

I had to cashred out my 401(k), sold my stocks, and used every last bit of severance to pay for rent, baby supplies, and doctor visits. We got married on July 31, 2023, in front of a judge. It wasn’t the wedding we dreamed of—but it was sacred to us. It was love. And it meant everything.

And then came September 18, 2023.

“The Day I Almost Lost Everything”

On the evening of September 17th, 2023, Katherine started feeling unwell. We rushed to the hospital and spent the night in the emergency room.

By 5 a.m. the next morning, they told us she was going into labor.

That’s when I learned something I’ll never forget: in Colombia, unless you pay in advance, fathers are not allowed in the delivery room.

So I waited.

Helpless.

Afraid.

Suddenly, alarms blared—Código Rojo. Doctors and nurses sprinted past me. I couldn’t breathe. My hands trembled. My stomach churned.

A nurse showed me my son—Elijah—through the glass of a neonatal incubator. He was struggling to breathe. But all I could think about was Katherine. No one would tell me if she was alive.

Hours passed. Every minute was torture.

Finally, a doctor came and gently took my hand. She looked me in the eyes and said:

“We almost lost her. But she’s stable now. She’s fighting. And she’s going to make it.”

I collapsed in tears. I called my Aunt Maria in Georgia and asked her to pray with me over the phone.

Later that afternoon, I saw Katherine in a wheelchair, being transferred to her room. Our eyes met, and I felt my soul exhale. A nurse soon arrived carrying Elijah, wrapped in his tiny newborn clothes.

Despite all the fear…

Despite all the stress…

Despite every anxious, uncertain moment—

Our son was born healthy. And today—he is my copy. A clear, beautiful reflection of me.

“Living in Pieces”

Eventually, I had to leave Colombia to find stable work again. I moved to San Francisco, where I started a new job in November 2024.

But I left my heart behind. My heart is still in Barranquilla.

Every day since, I’ve watched my baby grow through a phone screen. I’ve missed first laughs, first steps, first hugs. I talk to Katherine and the kids daily—but it's not the same. It never is.

I ache to hold my son. I long to feel my wife’s hand in mine.

I am doing everything I can to bring them here.

But the distance is heavy. Some days, it suffocates me.

Still—I keep going. Because love doesn’t stop when things get hard. Love fights.

“A Love Worth Fighting For”

This isn’t just a love story.

It’s a story of sacrifice. Of faith. Of choosing love over fear.

Katherine is my miracle. Elijah is my answered prayer.

And I? I’m just a man who risked everything for a life worth living.

One day soon, I’ll bring my family home. And when I do, I’ll fall to my knees and thank God for carrying us through.

Until then, I’ll keep building, keep believing, and keep loving—with everything I’ve got.

Because this love?

This family?

It was worth crossing the world for.