Love builds a family, not matching chromosomes, and not easy paths; love shows up and stays. Bethany and Paul live in southern Wisconsin with six kids whose ages stretch from almost 12 down to a baby. A trip to the grocery store turns heads, and strangers often joke that their hands are full. What most people don’t see is how their family came together. Their two youngest boys were adopted, and both had disabilities. Troy, almost four, has Down Syndrome. Owen, seven months old, has Koolen-de Vries syndrome caused by a small missing piece on the 17th chromosome.
Bethany laughs that, since Down Syndrome was an extra copy of a chromosome and Koolen-de Vries is a deletion, their home was “balanced” in its own way. This story centers on their first adoption. Bethany and Paul met through church as kids, fell for each other years later, and married quickly in 2009. Paul, a practical soul, had never pictured adoption for himself. On the other hand, Bethany had dreamed of it since childhood, when she would play “adoption” with her doll and imagine rescuing babies. Still, it was always a “maybe someday” idea until a piece of news pushed the door open.
Bethany heard that a woman she once knew was in jail, pregnant, and likely unable to parent. She and Paul wondered if they could step in. That baby already had a family waiting, but the question lingered: if they were ready to love that child, why not another baby who needed parents? Their Christian faith teaches them that every life has worth, so they decided to act on that belief. They explored options. International adoption didn’t feel right for their season of life with four small children. Domestic infant adoption was crowded with families hoping for a “healthy baby,” but what about babies with diagnoses? At first, Down Syndrome felt intimidating, something only “superhero” parents could handle. Then Bethany read, learned, and followed families online. Misconceptions faded.
She even felt oddly prepared when she discovered the higher chance of Celiac disease in people with Down Syndrome; her own family cooked gluten-free, so that part felt familiar. Finding the National Down Syndrome Adoption Network (NDSAN) was a turning point. Stephanie, the director, answered questions, encouraged them, and guided them through the home study.
The process Bethany had dreaded—paperwork, interviews, and a stranger inspecting their home—was supportive, not judgmental. Soon, their profile was live, ready to be shown to expectant parents. Waiting was the hardest part. Their profile was presented twice; one baby died before placement, and another went to a different family. Bethany felt fragile, like her most profound hope was being weighed by people she’d never met. She grieved for a child she hadn’t met yet and cried in church simply because another mother knew exactly where her baby was. The waiting burned off her self-doubt and deepened her faith.
The phone rang on July 5, 2018, while she drove the kids home from the park. Stephanie’s voice said, “Congratulations, Mama!” They had been chosen for a baby boy due in October. The following months flew by in preparations and fundraising. Because the baby’s birth mother wanted her child to have siblings, the entire family flew to Florida a week before the due date so she could meet the honest, noisy, loving bunch they were. Troy arrived by emergency C-section on October 24. Bethany held his birth mother’s hand in the operating room. It was clear Troy didn’t need rescuing; he was fiercely loved by the woman who made the hardest choice out of love for him. Then came a scare: Troy was pale, breathing slowly, and rushed to the NICU for a transfusion and oxygen.
He stayed there for ten days. Bethany learned his cues, held him for hours, and watched his birth mother visit and pump milk for him. When he finally stabilized, they navigated the tangle of oxygen equipment and flew home—five children under nine and an infant on oxygen in tow. It was exhausting and empowering. Bethany realized she could do hard things. Troy is sweet, funny, and determined. He works for milestones that come easily to others; every victory feels like a party. Loving him changed how the family measures worth. It isn’t about “perfect” chromosomes or timelines. It’s about the person right in front of you.
That change of heart made it easy to say yes again later, when they were asked to adopt a baby with a condition they’d never heard of, Owen, with Koolen-de Vries syndrome. But that, as Bethany says, is another story.
