In the summer of 2000, I never imagined I would become a father. I was 34 years old, living in New York City, working in the social sector, but still in a small apartment. I was with my partner, Pete, for over three years; we were serious, but not living together. Parenthood wasn't on my radar.

One August evening, I finished late work and headed to dinner with Pete. I was rushing to cross the street at Union Square station when I noticed a bundle of clothes in a corner. I saw it move and stopped in my tracks. I pulled the dark sweater aside and saw him: a newborn baby, still attached to the umbilical cord.

I was in shock. I ran to the street and found a phone to call 911. "I found a baby," I blurted. I rushed back to the platform and kneeled beside the baby. I touched his head to calm him, but he turned his face away. "You don't like that," I said. We stared at each other. My heart raced.

It felt like hours, but it was probably only a few minutes before the police arrived. I had to give a statement and went home for a big drink. Pete and I talked all night; why would a mother leave her baby, why leave it here, in gay New York City?

The media's brief interest faded, and life returned to normal until 12 weeks later when I got a call for a court hearing because the mother couldn't be found. To my surprise, the judge asked if I had an interest in adopting the baby. The idea hadn't even crossed my mind, but instantly, I desperately wanted to say yes. I told him I needed to talk to my partner, but I knew I wanted to do it.

Pete was furious. We'd never discussed starting a family. We were in debt – there were countless reasons why bringing a baby into our lives didn't seem wise. But I was certain.

Pete agreed to come with me to the children's home. As soon as I held him, I said, "Do you remember me?" Pete says, holding the baby, every bit of resistance instantly evaporated. We left that house united.

We were called on December 20th and approved as guardians. "How do you want him for the holidays?" the judge asked. We bought parenting books and read from cover to cover in 24 hours, and I moved into Pete's apartment.

We named him Kevin. Pete had an older brother named Kevin who died before he was born, and his parents always said he had a guardian angel named Kevin watching over him.

Bringing baby Kevin home was incredible but terrifying, like any new parent. But unlike them, we only had one day to prepare. For weeks, we took turns sitting by him to make sure he was still breathing.

We wanted Kevin to know he was wanted and loved, so we wrote him a story about how we became a family. He wanted us to read it over and over and take it to school.

When Kevin was 11, same-sex marriage was legalized in New York State, and we told him we wanted to get married. He said, "Don't judges marry people?" and suggested the judge who asked if we wanted to adopt him. We were thrilled when he agreed to do it.

It hasn't all been easy. When he was a teenager, he had many questions about his biological mother. He wanted to put up posters in the subway and noticed he'd look at strangers' faces to see if he looked like them. He's made peace with the situation now.

Pete wrote a memoir, and we also turned the story we wrote for Kevin into a children's book and made a short animation. We want other kids to know there are many ways to create a family.

Now Kevin is a wonderful young man, and we're very proud of him. He works out of state as a software developer, but luckily, he still enjoys spending time with his parents.

Even 26 years later, we still can't believe that, by some miracle, we were given the privilege of being part of Kevin's life. We're so lucky.

As told to Heather Maine

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