First, it was a baby getting COVID-19.
Then, it was an embryo shipment going horribly wrong.
And after that, it was ailing parents that needed their child’s help.
Between each ‘almost’ was several weeks full of waiting and hoping and not knowing. At the end of three cycles of those things and finding out three times that it wasn’t going to happen, we bittersweetly slipped fully into celebrating Christmas a little bit every day, planning and baking (and eating! 😁) and shopping and decorating and listening to festive music. We had settled in, expecting the surrogacy news front to be quiet in the way we believed was right; the right match would happen at the right time and it wouldn’t happen until it was supposed to. It turns out what they say is true: the
third fourth time really is the charm.
We got the best Christmas present:
Our new family is amazing. They are such genuine people of an even and determined strength. I find myself in awe of their unwavering commitment to family, especially in the face of the road they’ve travelled thus far. Their story isn’t mine to tell, but just know that we are deeply moved by the circumstances that have brought them to today; We count it an honor and a sweet privilege to come alongside them in their fight against infertility. So barring an earthquake or plagu—nevermind, bad example—we will be moving ahead with them and could not be happier.
Nothing I planned for 2020 went the way I planned. I lost a boss (to economic downturn; he is in good health, fortunately!) I respected and admired. My kids have been distance learners since March. Much of our lives have been on some form of pause for the better part of nine months. All of that said, Christmas is a time for hope.
A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices. Somehow, those words have never felt truer. We are blessed and healthy and looking ahead in hope. Because of this baby and Heaven’s baby.
Merry Christmas, friends. We’ll see you in 2021.