The writer, Vera Ceceila Vencatasamy, with her husband, Theo, and their daughter, Zendaya.
Image: Supplied
THE first question the social worker asks you is simple, but loaded: “are you open to adopting a child of another race?”
For some, it may require thought. For Theo and I, it didn’t. Race was irrelevant. In our hearts, it never made any difference to the love we had to give or the family we so deeply desired. Love, after all, does not recognise boundaries the way the world does.
Our adoption journey is, at its core, a story of how love found us. It has been a walk in faith, and one that changed us long before we ever held our daughter in our arms.
Theo and I married in 2009, and from the very beginning, we made an unusual decision: if we were to start a family, adoption would be our first choice. There was no medical reason guiding us there, only something deeply rooted in both our hearts.
For me, that seed was planted early.
I lost my mother at 16. We had an incredibly close bond, and when she passed, the world felt unbearably empty. As a teenager, I carried a deep sense of loneliness and a longing for family. At the same time, I became aware of the reality in South Africa, millions of children orphaned or abandoned, longing for homes.
When I met Theo, I later discovered he had walked a similar road, also losing his mother at a young age. Perhaps that shared grief quietly shaped our shared calling.
Still, like many dreams, adoption felt distant. Life moved on. We built our marriage, focused on our business, and tucked that calling quietly into the background. We had also heard how complex and costly adoption could be, and we simply didn’t know where to begin.
Then life shifted.
In 2010 and 2011, tragedy struck our family. Theo lost his eldest brother in a car accident, and the following year we lost a dear friend in a motorbike accident. The emotional toll was immense, and it spilled over into every area of our lives, including our business.
But sometimes, in life’s most broken seasons, something new begins to take shape.
Around that time, I came across a newspaper column that challenged readers to become mentors to orphaned children in institutions. Something stirred in us.
We responded.
For several years, we became one-on-one mentors at a local children’s home. We met incredible children, resilient, hopeful, and deeply in need of something far more valuable than resources or donations. They needed family.
It was there that adoption shifted from an idea to a real possibility.
Through workshops and conversations with adoptive families, we began to understand the process. Slowly, what once felt out of reach started to feel possible. And more than that, it began to feel necessary.
By the end of 2015, we knew it was time. It was another leap of faith – one that felt both exciting and terrifying. Were we ready emotionally? Financially? How would our families respond? Despite the questions, we stepped forward.
In early 2016, we met with a social worker and began the formal process. Forms were completed, background checks submitted, and unexpectedly, everything moved quickly. Within weeks, we found ourselves progressing faster than we had imagined. To us, it felt like confirmation: the time was right.
After completing the required sessions, we were placed on a waiting list. Anyone who has walked this road will tell you, the waiting is one of the hardest parts. It’s an emotional roller-coaster, filled with hope, fear and uncertainty.
Our wait, however, was surprisingly short.
Just two weeks in, we were told about a baby boy available for adoption. Our hearts leapt – but shortly after, we learnt he had been matched with another family. The disappointment was real and painful.
Then, only days later, we received news of another baby, a little girl in Pretoria.
We were cautious, trying not to get our hopes up too quickly. It took a month before we received a single, faded photograph. I remember the moment vividly. The email came through on Theo’s laptop, and I was too afraid to look. But when we did, something shifted. There was a quiet knowing, a tug in our hearts that felt undeniable.
Still, we wanted to meet her. To hold her. To bond.
But that’s not how our story unfolded.
We were told we needed to commit, to say yes – before we could even see her in person. It went against everything I thought the process would be. It felt illogical, even frightening.
What if I couldn’t bond? What if I got it wrong?
In the end, faith had to be greater than fear.
We said yes to a baby we had never met.
And then everything moved quickly.
On October 5, 2016 – a date forever etched in our hearts – we flew to Pretoria. That same day, we met our daughter for the very first time and brought her home.
The moment was overwhelming. When she was placed in my arms, she screamed endlessly. I felt a flicker of doubt, a moment of fear. But as we drove away, holding her close, she grew quiet. In that stillness, I felt it clearly – she knew she was safe.
We have now been parents for over nine years, and it has been exciting, challenging, and the greatest privilege of our lives. Adoption is a miracle where loss and love meet, and where family is defined not by biology, but by the courage to say yes. Our daughter is love that found us, a gift we never take for granted. This journey has taught us that when we trust beyond what we can see, God writes a story far greater than we could imagine, one that continues to unfold with grace, gratitude, and a love that knows no boundaries.