Match Made!

So... as of 4 weeks ago, we have a match! It's bizarre that I haven't written about it yet because in some ways it's the only thing worth writing about. I've somehow managed to waffle on for 14 blog posts without saying very much at all I suppose. But this was always intended to be a way of charting the journey, and so I suppose part of that journey is simply not really feeling like writing much.

So - how do I sum up how things have been for the past month?? Well, initially - and this is all I'll focus on in this post - there was jubilation! Helen phoned me when I was on the train, on the way home from a two day conference. It had been an interesting week. And by interesting I mean bad/good.

We had been told that there were two babies that they were family finding for, and that there were two families waiting. The odds were in our favour (even my Maths skills stretch that far), so we, and Helen, felt fairly hopeful. The first matching meeting was scheduled for a Friday, and at the end of the day we found out that the decision hadn't gone our way. We felt like we'd been kicked. We felt bruised and battered. We felt that they'd got it wrong - we really believed we were the right match. How could they not see that? How could anyone else have possibly been a better match? They had even been looking for a church-going family. If we couldn't get there even in this case, how would we ever?! We were gutted, exhausted and cross. It turned out the thing that had swung it was that the birth mother was likely to have further children, and the other adopters were in a better position to provide a home for those future children... It stung a bit, and it riled me in the same way anything riles me where I am directly affected and yet have no way of influencing events or sharing my thoughts or even entering into a dialogue.

The second matching meeting, for baby number two, was scheduled for the Monday. That day, I felt unwell all day. Not physically as such, but I did not feel good. I was permanently expecting my phone to go, and the anticipation just really got to me. I suppose I was preempting bad news. I was irritable and sad even though there was a chance we'd get good news. My response was to shut down, close in and let myself feel bad. We hadn't been told that the meeting would be taking place at the end of the day, and it wasn't until around 6pm that we heard from Helen - via email - that a decision hadn't been reached... it was, essentially, a tie break. And the decision-maker didn't see how she could make a decision any sooner than Wednesday at the earliest. Bad timing, because I was booked in on this two day conference, without Hubby, for Wednesday and Thursday. The prospect of more bad news, delivered to me while I was on my own, made me feel terrible.

I somehow got through. I mean it sounds ridiculous now; it's not like I endured an iron man marathon or had to rebuild my house after a devastating flood, or even got served a cup of tea made with skimmed milk. But it felt big - going away on my own, with friends but still, not with Hubby, having to "wear my work hat" and hold things together. I was determined not to be glued to my phone, obsessively checking it, but I must admit I didn't quite manage that.

Well I got through, and got on the train and headed home. And then Helen rang - and as soon as I saw my phone light up I knew it would be good news. Bad news and she'd have emailed. I cried down the phone, stammered out a few words, and that was that. Good news. At last.