When a home invasion shattered our family, we were left scared, broken, and unsure how to heal. But the darkness finally brought us a chance for hope: the decision to adopt a child and rebuild what was lost.
At the end of 2002, she and her husband were happily raising three children: a sweet 8-year-old daughter, an imaginative 6-year-old boy, and a playful 4-year-old boy. They weren’t perfect, but our home was full of love, laughter, and plans for the future. Then, on New Year’s Eve, two young intruders violently stormed into their house. For more than three terrifying hours, my husband, our children, and she were held hostage. The event left scars deeper than anyone could see. Lives inside their house were irreparably changed.
Their children stopped being children. Their daughter, once sweet and shy, closed off entirely. The things she saw made her shut down emotionally. Our boys became ruled by fear, anger, and trauma. Every day was a struggle, but just to survive. As the years passed, they realized something painful: this tragedy had become the measure by which we saw everything: holidays, birthdays, even simple family time. It felt like they were waiting for things to get worse again. They didn’t want their children to grow up thinking that life is only pain and loss. They wanted to give them hope. They needed a fresh start.
That’s when they considered adoption. They did not take the decision lightly. They worried about the unknown. Would adding a child help? They feared loving someone new only to lose them. But their time slowly, carefully convinced them our choice came from a place of love and healing, not desperation. They contacted an agency, started the paperwork, and waited. At first, we looked at international adoption. One little girl in India touched our hearts. She was only nine months old when we first saw her picture. They learned she was medically fragile, but to us, she was perfect. We named her and waited for the day we could bring her home.
Adoption, as they quickly realized, wasn’t easy. They faced long delays, heartbreak, bureaucratic setbacks, and sometimes despair. Documents lost at sea, courts changing their laws, endless waiting. There were moments when she asked me, “Why am I doing this?” when the pain seemed too big. Still, they kept going. Through the waiting, they saw small changes in their children. They laughed more. Showed a glimmer of hope again. They began to trust, not just the world, but each other. Little by little, they started believing healing was possible.
Finally, in September 2014, we got the news we had been praying for. Our “little girl”, now nearly four years old, was ready to become part of our family. They booked our flight for the end of that month. She still remembers how her heart raced the first time she saw her face. She was tiny but perfect in our eyes. When she walked through the door into our home, she didn’t just bring a new child; she brought hope. She brought softness back into our lives. Over her first months, she needed care, love, patience, and understanding. She had medical problems and developmental delays. But we were ready. We were healing together as a family.
Today, she is growing up surrounded by love. Her older brothers and sister didn’t just get a sister, they got a chance to be a family again. And for her and her husband, we finally feel like they found a way out of that terrible night years ago. Their daughter reminds them every single day that love can lift you from the ash heap. She is living proof that even the deepest pain can someday lead to healing.
