Our family profile was posted on June 4 – two months ago today.
Rationally, I know that two months is not that long. I have had colds that lasted longer than two months (stupid, stupid suppressed immune system). But emotionally? Well, that’s a whole different story.
When we posted our profile, part of me just knew that we would fall outside the norm. I figured the six to nine month average range touted by our agency would come and go without finding our match. I feared we’d approach the 18-month mark before we had a match. I also assumed that it would be a three-month match, making our entire wait about 21 months.
And still another part of me thought we’d get a match in the first 13 days and that it would be a short match period – just two weeks.
Seriously, those were really the only two options I considered likely. A 21-month wait or less than one month. I have no idea what I thought might happen in all those other months.
One month passed and my parents were preparing for a two-week trip to see family in another country. I was then absolutely certain that our match call would come as soon as my parents boarded the boat that would sail them up the Rhine River in Germany – utterly unreachable. I played out complicated, “Surprise! You’re grandparents,” scenarios in my head. I imagined how we’d already be enjoying a blissful ICPC stay with our new baby – a champion sleeper, by the way* – in some state or another when my parents returned. But as the third day of their trip turned into the fourth and fifth days, I started thinking that we might not get the match call.
This weekend, my parents will return home and we’ve not been matched.
The summer is drawing to a close. As autumn ticks closer, I have to start preparing myself for the very real chance that our son or daughter will not be born in 2012. That he or she might not be in the same class as the children of three of my good friends who had babies this year.
It’s okay. I always knew there was that chance. As I turned the calendar to August earlier this week, I came to terms with it.
Year of the Dragon or Year of the Snake, this little baby is going to be so loved whenever he or she gets here.
*What? It’s a fantasy, okay?