On December 5, 2009, MrsLarijani and I got married. From that time, we began attempting to procreate. The effort was enjoyable.

But no bueno: for all our efforts, we were unable to conceive. Ultimately, we decided to check to see what our fertility issues were.

As it turns out, I’m shooting blanks.

I was not surprised. Due to issues related to my premature birth, I had long known that this could be a possibility. MrsLarijani knew of that possibility when we got married.

Due to both my age and the complications and uncertainty of the available procedures, MrsLarijani and I decided, early on, to pursue adoption.

In July 2014, we finished our paperwork and background checks, and entered the pipeline for Catholic Charities. The average wait time is three years.

Being of the cynical persuasion, I expected a wait of at least four years.

In those years, we have had serious challenges: I found out that the homebuilder had improperly installed my roof, and had to replace all the shingles. MrsLarijani’s grandmother died; her step-grandfather died; her brother died.

Making matters worse, everyone in our Catholic Charities cohort–who went through the classes with us–received “placements” early on. We were the only ones waiting.

First one year.

Then two years.

In mid-January, we received an e-mail from Catholic Charities about a “special situation”. These are cases were there are atypical circumstances. We almost always put in for those, as we have cast a wide net.

We were also about a week away from being approved to be foster parents in the state system.

MrsLarijani and I decided to go “YES” on the special case. MrsLarijani worked frantically to get all of our paperwork updated so we could be eligible, as the birth mother was going to make her decision on Friday, January 13.

When MrsLarjani arrived at Catholic Charities, she handed in the paperwork. She saw a stack of profiles: at least 30 of them, going from the floor to the top of the desk. Those were the other couples who put in for this case.

We figured this would go as the rest of them had: someone else would get picked. I fully expected it.’

Then, at about 1:00 in the afternoon, MrsLarijani called me. Usually, when she calls at that time, it’s bad news.

She was crying. She said something unintelligible. I thought she had just gotten written up by her boss, who had been a jerk.

Me: “Honey, you’re going to have to calm down. I cannot understand anything you are saying.”

MrsLarijani: “OUR WAIT IS OVER!!!”

Me: “We got picked?”

MrsLarijani: “YES!!”

We had a phone conference with Catholic Charities, to get our approval. I wanted to be there with MrsLarijani.

In spite of my bad knee, I ran out to the car and drove to her place of employment. She was sobbing–there were customers on the floor, but I swear if her boss had chewed her for that I would have told her where to stick her reprimand–but I ran up and embraced her.

In the phone conference, Catholic Charities explained some of the particulars: among other things, expected due date was February 8.

Because of some of the particulars, I was not ready to celebrate just yet. D-Day was about a month away, and a lot of things can happen in that time. I have had enough times in life where something appeared to be certain, only to have hopes dashed in the last minute.

Looking at that, I totally get why Zecharias initially doubted when Gabriel told him that, in his old age, he and his wife would conceive and have a child who would pave the way for Jesus.

Average wait time is three years; we got picked in two-and-a-half.

There was considerable rejoicing, but my celebration was muted.

Now, I was praying, “Let the baby be born healthy, and let this process be orderly.”

One wait ended, but now, we’re on standby for the next four weeks.