A Family's Journey · Philippines to USA
From Auntie
to Mom
Sixteen years of love, sacrifice, heartbreak, and unwavering faith — for three little girls who deserved someone to fight for them.
"Some people become parents in nine months.
Our journey took sixteen years —
and every single day was worth it." — Aurora Torrefranca-Cash
The Moment Everything Changed
I still remember the moment my world shifted on its axis. I discovered that I had been listed as the mother on little Avril's birth certificate — a child born in the Philippines — without my knowledge. Her biological mother had falsified the document. I was stunned. Confused. But the moment I laid eyes on that baby girl, something deep inside me knew: my life was forever tied to hers.
By the end of 2010, my husband Robert and I flew to the Philippines to celebrate something beautiful — Avril's baptism, alongside her newborn baby sister, Verra. Standing there, holding these precious little ones close, I was already asking myself: How do I rectify Avril's birth certificate? How do I even begin to adopt her?
I began making calls. Reaching out to agencies. Consulting attorneys across two countries. The road ahead was unclear — but the seed had been planted, and nothing would uproot it.
The Storm Before the Calling
After husband and I returned home in 2010, we kept close contact with the girls in the Philippines. But what we heard over the following years broke our hearts completely.
Avril and Verra were living through a turbulent and unstable life. In 2014, their biological mother abandoned them — leaving for another man. By 2016, she had been incarcerated. Their father, meanwhile, had moved on entirely and started a new family — leaving three little girls with no one to turn to.
We stepped in without question. We removed the girls from that environment and built them a safe, loving home right next to my father's residence in Dumanjug, Cebu — surrounded by family, warmth, and belonging.
And this time, it wasn't just Avril and Verra. We brought their eldest sister, Jenny Lyn, with us too. At the time, Jenny was just 11 years old. Avril was 7. Little Verra was only 5.
From that day forward, husband and I became their everything — their housing, their food, their education, their safety, their future. We were already their parents in every way that mattered. We just needed the law to catch up.
The Decision — and the Moment We'll Never Forget
After years of providing for the girls and countless heartfelt conversations between husband and me, we made it official between ourselves: we were going to adopt all three.
It began with Avril — because of the birth certificate matter. But how could we possibly leave Jenny and Verra behind? They were sisters. They were family. They were our beautiful daughters.
We decided we would tell the girls in person. Not over the phone. Not over video call. This moment deserved to be face to face, heart to heart.
So in 2019, husband and I flew back to the Philippines for three weeks — not for paperwork, not for attorneys — simply to be with them. As we always did on every visit, we poured ourselves into those weeks: cooking together, exploring, laughing, sitting together in the evenings as a family. Every trip we have ever made to the Philippines has always been centered on one sacred priority: bonding with our girls.
They were joyful. Excited. Overwhelmed with happiness. Jenny, Avril, and Verra each said yes with their entire hearts. In that moment, no court in the world needed to tell us we were already a family.
COVID Stole a Year — But Couldn't Stop Us
By the end of 2020, I had connected with a local attorney in Cebu. We began carefully mapping out our path — how to legally formalize the adoption of all three girls while simultaneously correcting Avril's birth certificate.
And then — COVID-19 hit the entire world.
The Philippines closed its borders. International flights were grounded. We were stranded on opposite sides of the Pacific Ocean from our daughters, and there was nothing we could do but wait, pray, and hold on.
The moment travel restrictions lifted, we were on the first available flight.
In May 2022, husband and I landed in the Philippines — and as always, we went straight to our girls first. We spent precious time together, bonding, reconnecting, and holding them close. Then, the very next day, we went to our attorney.
One by one, Jenny, Avril, and Verra each signed their consent forms — officially and joyfully agreeing to be adopted. Our attorney formally submitted the adoption application to the Judicial Court of Barili, Cebu.
The long, drawn-out journey had officially, finally, begun.
Across the Ocean — Again
In August 2024, Robert and I boarded another flight across the Pacific. And just as every journey before it, we did not rush to the courthouse the moment we landed.
We went to be with our daughters first. We spent three weeks cooking, laughing, exploring, and simply existing together as a family on Philippine soil. Every visit — no matter what legal milestone awaited — has always been about nurturing our bond with Jenny, Avril, and Verra. Making sure they felt seen. Loved. Never forgotten.
Then we attended the hearing. The process was moving — slowly, as Philippine courts often do — but it was unmistakably moving. We held onto that.
The Words That Made Everything Worth It
In April 2026, Robert and I boarded yet another flight to the Philippines — our hearts full, our hopes higher than they had ever been.
And yet again, before anything else, we went to our girls. We held them. We laughed and cried and stayed up late talking. We were a family — fully, completely — on Philippine soil, the way we had been every single time we crossed that ocean.
Then came the two hearings.
At the conclusion of the second hearing on April 30, 2026, the judge spoke words that made every nerve in my body tremble:
In Philippine legal language, terminated means finalized. Complete. Done.
The official court documentation will be formally issued on June 30, 2026. But in that courtroom — after sixteen years of love, sacrifice, heartbreak, distance, patience, and unwavering faith — these girls became ours.
Our Journey at a Glance
We Are Coming
For You, Anak.
As I write this, Robert and I are patiently — and anxiously — waiting for June 30th. We are working closely with a US immigration attorney to begin the process of bringing Jenny, Avril, and Verra home to the United States.
The journey has been painful. It has been long. It has tested us in ways we never anticipated.
But not one moment was wasted. Not one flight. Not one hearing. Not one tear.
Because on the other side of all of it are three remarkable young women who deserved someone to fight for them — and we are so honored that we got to be that someone.
