Shortly after we returned home with Sofie, we began thinking about adopting “just one more time” and began to consider various options. With our family size, we were somewhat limited, but we looked into domestic adoption (we’d already had two failed domestic adoptions – more about that later), Taiwan, Mongolia and Viet Nam (which was then rumored to be reopening eventually). We decided that since we weren’t in a big hurry, we might as well wait for things in Viet Nam to get going again. We mailed off our agency application and sat back to settle in with Sofie.

In August, we heard about a sibling group of three from Haiti who needed an LDS home. We’d been told that Haiti wasn’t an option for us as we had more than three birthchildren, but I decided to get more information about them to pass on to other LDS families who might be interested. In the process of sharing the information, we learned that the Haitian adoption authorities very often made exceptions for families with 4 biological children. Hmmm…

It turned out that the sibling group was meant for another family, but when the adoption coordinator told me, “You know, we DO have other children available...” well, that was it for us. When perusing the photos and information the coordinator sent, we found HER, a “her” we didn’t even know we were missing. And she came with a bonus – a brand new baby brother. After a night full of prayer, we committed to adopting the children the very next day. :) We knew they were ours.

A short time later, we were told that our sibling group of two might more accurately be described as, ahem, a sibling group of three. There was a middle child. Once again, we got on our knees and prayed for guidance about what to do. We finally figured that if we could handle two, what was one more? And we certainly couldn’t split them up.

As it turned out, the middle child, a girl, couldn’t be adopted because her father had disappeared but had previously stated his intent to parent. Although it was sad at the time, in hindsight, I believe this experience prepared us for what would happen next.

Our adoption coordinator asked if we’d be interested in another referral, and we half-heartedly told her we’d consider it. We reviewed a few other children’s pictures and information, but none of them felt quite right. Later, however, our interest was piqued when we were told there was a baby girl with albinism available. We knew a bit about albinism because of rubbing shoulders with other China adoptive parents whose kids had special needs, and we’d also met an adorable little boy with albinism in Sofie’s orphanage. (Side note: we affectionately referred to this little boy as “Jack,” and ended up naming our newest son “Jackson” largely because of the impression this child made on us).

I’m a person that believes that sometimes things happen for a reason, and sometimes they just happen. In this case, however, I definitely think that the Lord prepared us for this. He prepared us for the prospect of adopting three children at once (something we’d NEVER previously entertained), and I believe He prepared us for a child with albinism. We committed to adopt her during Thanksgiving of 2005.

In May of this year, we took our second trip to Haiti to visit our children-to-be, and were able to meet our little Cora for the first time. As much as I wanted it to be, it was not love at first sight. It was more like terror at first sight. She was 12.5 months old, but she acted more like a 4 month old. She couldn’t bear weight on her legs, couldn’t hold a bottle, couldn’t eat solid food, and couldn’t transfer objects from hand-to-hand, just to name a few things. She could sit and she babbled and smiled, but she was still so incredibly delayed that we didn’t know what to think. All people with albinism have low vision, but I started worrying that in addition to being visually impaired, she also had serious cognitive deficits. Curtis was pretty level-headed throughout it all, saying we’d already made up our minds and prayed about it, but I started back-peddling and feeling myself detaching. I wanted to just rewind my life to the point when we’d first heard about her, and just change that one decision. We’d been through a heart-wrenching domestic adoption failure the previous year, and while I couldn’t bear the thought of having to tell my children – again - that a child they thought would be their sister would not be coming into the family after all, I didn’t know if I could do this thing. I wrestled with it for days. I cried and cried and cried and felt as if the world were falling apart.

Just as in all of my other adoption pitfalls, obstacles and stresses, I turned to the Lord and to my husband for a priesthood blessing. The blessing I received was very clear: I was told that I had already received my answer, that Cora was our daughter, and that our lives would be blessed because of her.

From that moment on, even though I felt frequent worry over what her future would be like (and as a result, ours), I loved that child fiercely. When we left Haiti, I KNEW that she was mine, and that we were in it together, whatever “it” might be. I felt a peace about her that I didn’t know was possible to feel. Whenever I’d feel my mind floating into the future, or beginning the “what iffing” that I’m wont to do, the same thoughts would come into my mind: it doesn’t matter. This life is fleeting. She’ll be perfect. She’ll be yours forever. She’ll be perfect.

At first, I took this to mean that she, indeed, would have issues/problems/needs that would be substantial, and this gave me so much comfort. We hadn’t set out to adopt a child with major special needs, but I was OK with it if that’s how things went. Amazingly, though, Cora has taken off in incredible ways and we’re all beginning to believe that she’s going to be just fine (whatever “fine” may be). I think the experience in Haiti was a major trial of my faith, and I’ll be forever grateful that my blessing helped me to overcome the suffocating fear I experienced there. Cora has a spirit that people seem to respond to and they sense how amazing she is. Whatever Cora, or any of my kids will be, this life is fleeting, they’ll be perfect, and they’ll be mine forever. :)

(continued)