One year ago today, we were matched.
I was at work when the paralegal from our attorney's office called. She'd finally gotten in touch with T after nearly two weeks of missed calls and playing phone tag, and T had time to talk. Did we have time to get on a call now? Well yes, I did, but Joey didn't. It was mid-morning and both of us were at work. I asked if it was okay that I call her alone, and she said it would be fine. So I did.
Stomach in knots, I went outside and dialed the number. I was sweating. Yes, it was hot out - being June in Florida - but this was all nerves. T answered. We said our awkward hellos, I apologized in advance for any background noise, and then we started into our conversation. Per our paralegal's recommendation, I decided to let T determine the direction.
I knew the basics: it was us and another couple. She was leaning toward the other couple because they had another child. She was an only child and didn't want this baby to grow up alone. She also wanted to know our views on religion - in what context, I wasn't sure. All I knew was that part would go one of two ways: either she'd love our thoughts (that we considered ourselves spiritual and not focused on organized religion), or she'd decide this meant we were crazy devil worshipers for not attending church and go with the other couple.
The topic of being an "only" came up first. I expressed my wish to have more than one child, but I also spoke about the reality: that we may not be able to have more than one child, due to circumstances beyond our control. Yet, I assured her that our child would never be lonely. She would never be without cousins or friends to play with. T seemed to appreciate that. We spoke more about our families and our relationships with friends before she broached the topic of religion. Here is was: what I felt was the moment of truth. Would she love or hate what I had to say? She paused for a moment after I spoke.
Then, she said, "It's like you took the words out of my head."
I breathed a sigh of relief as she continued to talk about her upbringing. She revealed to me that there were little things about our profile that made her feel a stronger connection with us than the other couple. Our wedding date was the date of her youngest daughter's birth. We had a page in our profile devoted to our dog; she also thought of her dog as family. My nerves were slowly fading with the realization that, despite our individual circumstances, we were very much alike in personality and philosophy. Before I knew it, she was inviting us to her next ultrasound.
Did this mean we were it? Did this mean she was choosing us? My head was spinning. I didn't know what to say except to tell her that I felt she should still speak to the other couple before making a final decision. I wanted her to give them a shot, because I knew what it felt like to not have the opportunity to speak to an expectant mother directly - to tell her about us and our views on parenting and family. She agreed, and we said our good-byes. I looked at the clock and realized that we'd been on the phone for nearly an hour. It flew by.
The minutes after that didn't. I called Joey at work and said, "I think we might be parents?" I paced. A lot. I sat at my computer and stared at my screen. I was in a state of shock while my friends and coworkers hugged me and cried with happiness. It felt like one of those movie scenes: everything around me was moving at lightning speed while I sat there, completely still. Finally, forty-five minutes later, my phone rang again. It was the attorney's office, calling to confirm the match.
We were going to be parents to a baby girl.
And our lives would never be the same.