Meet the parents.
For weeks, I had envisioned how the first time meeting the intended parents (IPs) would go over in my mind. We would shake hands. No, we would hug. But not for too long. I would probably be overly bubbly but also try to play it cool for Matt who would most certainly be sweating buckets of apprehension. We would have light conversation but not get too personal. We certainly never would discuss politics, religion, or any of those awkward topics. I wouldn’t say anything stupid… who am I kidding, of course I would say something stupid. And when it came time for the bill, I would pretend as though I’m about to pay but knowing damn well that they are going to insist that they pay. I’d show immense gratitude, go in for another hug and that’s that. Ok, let’s do this. On Sunday we picked up the rental car reserved by the surrogacy agency. I listened to murder podcasts the entire way down which in retrospect DEFINITELY added to my heightened anxiety. Well that and the fact that Matt co...