So, We Check Our Email

So, we check our email today, and there is a note from the agency. They have unofficial word that the CCAA has matched families with LID dates up to 12/8/2005. We are 12/7/2005. Based on the history of matches the last year or so, we don’t know what to really expect.

Angela’s Perspective:

I’ll let Angela write this. The agency emailed both of us at our personal email addresses, but Angela happened to check hers first.

Matt’s Perspective:

OK, I was having my normal day at work. Even though we had an update from the agency, we didn’t really expect to be matched with this batch of referrals. About 96% of the day I am in front of my computer with easy access to my work phone, cell phone, email, and IM. The other 4% reflects time when I have to leave my desk for one reason or another.

I work in one of the original parts of the city, and our office building is about 300 years old. Inside, much of the original floor plan is still intact, and the office has the feel of a residence. We use interoffice phone and IM for simple communication, but at this particular moment I had to go over to other side of the office to talk to someone. It just happened that Angela called my desk, and I wasn’t there, so the call rolled over to the main number and someone else picked up. The conversation was pretty short, and I was quickly back at my desk.

Pretty soon after I sat down, Tom came by my desk. I am not sure what exactly she told him, but Tom told me that Angela was on the phone and that it was very important that I talk to her immediately.

I pick up the phone, say “This is Matt”, and Angela says “We’ve been matched.” Needless to say I was speechless. No, I really mean that I was speechless. I didn’t know what to say. That whole day is still a blur, but I made out that the agency emailed us that we should be expecting our match next week. Angela also tells me that I left my cell phone at home.

At this point, I want to call my mom. There is no real privacy anywhere in the office and my cell phone is on the dining room table, so I ask to borrow Steven’s cell phone. He kinda overheard the conversation, but doesn’t say anything. I go outside, and call my mom and tell her the news.

After I call my mom, I spent some “alone time” thinking about everything. Words can not describe what I felt. I don’t use this term lightly. After the long wait, shock was pretty high on the list; it just didn’t seem real. The other side of the picture was the sense of joy that you only experience a few times in your lifetime. The combination of shock and extreme joy was overwhelming.

I finally make my way up to my desk. I tried to gather everyone in the office together to make an announcement in person, but people were scattered in meetings and on the phone, so I compose a quick email and send it out to the team.

Right after I clicked “Send,” Tom comes over to my desk to ask me something. Now, Tom is a project manager (and a very nice guy), and unfortunately takes the brunt of most of my blunt responses. I don’t remember what he asked me (I think it had to do with a schedule update), but my response was “I really don’t care right now.” I think I may have added an adjective in there. Tom smiles, and walks back to his desk.

Two minutes later, he walks back to my desk and says “Congratulations.”