She picked us. It all comes down to that.
We got the call late Wednesday afternoon. I was sitting at my desk at work when my phone buzzed and the display read “Blocked.” All calls from our adoption agency come up as “Blocked” as they need to maintain anonymity in dealing with their clients.
My heart stopped. A few weeks prior, our social worker called and as soon as I picked up, she said, “Don’t get too excited. I just need to talk to you.” She told us she had a birth mother who almost matched what we were looking for and needed our permission to be shown. We knew this might happen. We had filled out a key with what we were comfortable with and sometimes there are situations that fall outside the parameters of the key.
My husband and I spent the weekend researching and talking and making the decision as to if we wanted to be shown or not. On Monday, we told our social worker that we wanted to be shown.
And then we waited.
Two years prior, our first child was stillborn. After 37 weeks of carrying her just below my heart, she died before she had a chance to be born. We were shattered. Our dream of being parents came to an abrupt halt.
We tried to get pregnant again. We tried fertility treatments. We were in such deep grief that nothing worked. Then we decided that adoption was a very real choice for us.
We were hesitant to start setting up the nursery just yet. We had a bassinet and the car seat from when I was pregnant. We had clothes and diapers and bottles. And we had more love than we knew what to do with.
And so we waited.
There was one email that said she was looking at seven families.
There was another email that said she was looking at three families.
There was an email that said she liked our video.
Then there was the call.
“Are you OK with two legally enforceable visits a year?” our social worker asked me. My heart exploded. This was suddenly very real.
“Yes, we are,” I replied. That was why we chose open adoption. As long as it is in the best interest of our child, we are OK with two visits a year.
“OK,” she said. “I have to make a few calls. Hopefully I will call you back soon.”
My husband was home sick. 365 days a year we are together. We live together. We work together. We commute together. We take our lunch breaks together. On this day of all days, he was home sick.
Shaking, I called him and filled him in. He was as shocked as I was. I told him I would call back if there was more to say.
I sat at my desk. My monitor loomed in front of me. I had the phone in my hand. I waited.
It rang again. I tried to stay calm. Our social worker identified herself right away. “This is the call you have been waiting for. You can get excited. She picked you. Congratulations.”
I have no idea what I said. I know I ran outside and it was windy and my hair was whipping around my face and sticking to the tears coming out of my now puffy eyes. I know I asked if she was sure. I know I said thank you. I know I asked her to send me an email with anything important because I would not remember anything past the initial great news.
I called my husband next. He picked up the phone and I said, “Hi, Daddy.”
He whispered, “She picked us?”
“Yes,” I replied. “She picked us.”
I called my brother on the way home from work that day. He said he will never forget our conversation. Trust me, neither will I. It was the day we found out that she picked us. It was the day we found out we were going to be parents again.
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