There are about a million different routes someone can take when it comes to adoption, and they all eventually lead to the same finish line: some very eager parents finally being matched with a child who needs a home. For us, the path was infant adoption through a private agency. That basically meant we weren’t “standing in line” waiting for our number to be called, like at the DMV. Nope—we were part of a giant game show where birth moms got to flip through a binder of hopeful contestants and pick their favorite family. Imagine a dating app, but instead of awkward small talk and bad first dates, the prize was becoming parents. And the competition was fierce. We weren’t just up against one or two other couples—we were in the ring with about 200 other “please-pick-me” parents at our agency, plus countless more across the country. It was basically like a reverse Orphan Annie situation. Instead of us waiting for Daddy Warbucks to scoop us up, we were the ones lined up, polished and smiling, hoping to be chosen.
To even get a shot, we had to put together a profile book. And not just any little scrapbook—oh no, this was a full-blown glossy brochure all about us. It had to showcase our jobs, hobbies, favorite things, family backgrounds, and of course, photos of us looking like a fun, wholesome, child-ready couple. Now, here’s the thing—nobody actually has candid pictures of themselves casually folding laundry with a big smile or chopping vegetables in perfect lighting. Enter: Connor Piché, our photography hero, who staged some “totally normal” photos of us pretending to live our best domestic lives. Spoiler: it takes a lot of effort to look that naturally happy while fake-loading a dishwasher. Once the photos and life stories were collected, they were handed off to—wait for it—another graphic designer. Yes, as a graphic designer myself, this was a bit of a stab to the ego. It’s like hiring someone else to bake your birthday cake when you’re literally a baker. But hey, this designer specialized in adoption profiles, and apparently that’s a niche with its own secret sauce. So, I swallowed my pride and let the pros do their thing.
The final product was then sent out into the world like a glossy sales brochure. Each month, our “parental résumé” would be shown to 20–30 expectant mothers. We’d get updates on how many had looked, where they were from, and sometimes, if we were really lucky, we’d hear we’d made someone’s “Top 5.” Occasionally, we were even this close—second choice! Which sounds flattering until you realize “second choice” in adoption is like being the runner-up on The Bachelor: you get the heartbreak without the roses. So mostly, the updates were just monthly doses of false hope with a side of anticipation.
But after a year of prepping and two years and two months of waiting (yes, we counted every single one), something amazing finally happened: someone picked us. Our names were called, our brochure won the prize, and we officially moved to the next stage. Which, of course, is just another kind of waiting game—the kind where you’re nervously watching the calendar, checking your phone obsessively, and trying to believe this is all really happening. Waiting for the baby, waiting for placement, waiting for the whole new adventure to finally begin. And honestly? We wouldn’t trade the weird, funny, stressful process for anything—because now we’re one step closer to the family we’ve been dreaming about.