The Call: Kevin's Side of the Story

Over the weekend, it started to feel like I could finally let some of this sink in. It was like my brain, if not having processed everything, had at least managed to sort things into an orderly line, like at the DMV, to wait their turn and eventually travel across my synapses, splatting at high speed against the wall of my psyche.

Here was my last Tuesday:

Tuesdays are usually fairly calm for me at work. That morning, Jen called me and said that she was at our credit union, we were due for another program fee to our agency and she needed to know the amount. This is the money that keeps them hard at work managing the orderly flow of paper and finding us a daughter. Thus far, I can't recommend them highly enough. They've been wonderful, helpful and thorough every step of the way.

Fast forward to after lunch, wherein my ill-advised giant spicy hot dog from the convenience store declared itself gang lord of my stomach contents. I am at my desk in my work's media office, where myself, our other designer and the VP of Marketing reside in front of our giant Mac Pros and their giant monitors, humming along with the fans we have to run to keep from cooking to death in the summer.

My phone rings, and it's Jen. I usually duck out of the office for personal calls if I think it's going to be more than a few minutes. Many of my conversations at work with Jen deal with the exciting and engaging topics of What We Are Having for Dinner and Whose Turn Is It to Cook.

Jen seems slightly out of breath, but composed. She asks if I have a minute to talk. My eyes are a bit glazed over as I go over some website graphics I'm working on. "Sure."

"I just got a call from the agency." Crap. I gave her the wrong amount and now I've got to run to the credit union.

"Okay..."

"WE GOT A REFERRAL."

There is a slight pause: this idea is a mountain and my brain is attempting to ski uphill wearing rollerskates. Then, as is my fantastic gift with the English language, at times like these I become fiercely eloquent.

"Uh... WHAT?!" I decide that this call will probably last more than a few minutes and sprint out of the office, realizing later that the looks of terror on the faces of my two office mates probably meant that they thought I had just been given horrible news.

Jen explained about her call with the agency and I took in every detail, trying to piece it all together. My heart raced as she told me the details of the call and wished I could just head home. I worked my butt off getting done what I needed to and then told my supervisor that we just got a referral and could I take off a bit early?

In the meantime, Jen had emailed me the file and I pulled it up out of curiosity, though I thought I should wait until I got home to look at it with Jen. The first picture came up and I felt my heart skip for a second... is this our daughter? I had so many questions and my head was reeling. I was starting to feel a bit dizzy and I raced home (safely, observing all local traffic laws and posted speed limits).

We sat down and opened her file together. Jen told me what she knew as we looked into her medical history, the pictures before and after surgery, and I looked at her goofy knitted blue sweater and her big chubby cheeks and tried to take it all in. There was a bit of discussion about her condition and the big question still hung heavy in the air, is that... her? It proved difficult to separate the two opposing halves of emotional response and practical considerations about taking in this little girl.

What sealed it for me was this: I asked Jen to set aside the discussion about surgeries and care. Ignore all that. What did *she* feel on seeing this adorable little girl? Jen said "Kevin, I've seen these eyes. I know this face."

Then the tears came to me, and I felt it. I knew. I knew it because she was reflected in Jen's eyes. Jen had once again proven that she is gifted with a sight beyond my own. There were no more doubts, there was no more discussion. This girl is our daughter.

Holy crap. This girl is my daughter.

- Kevin

P.S. We promise to post pics and more info as soon as we have permission. In the meantime, drop us an email if you want to know more than what we can post openly for now.