12 Green grapes, the number four, and learning to grow balls
December 31, 11:59 PM Eastern Standard Time, 2023. I’m sitting under my kitchen table with a bowl of 12 green grapes, counting down until midnight. After our minivan was totaled and a brutal stomach flu tore through the house just days earlier, I was more than ready to embrace 2024.
I’d learned from TikTok that in Spain, it’s customary to eat twelve green grapes beneath your kitchen table before the clock strikes 12:01 AM. Each grape represents a wish for the new year. Naturally, I had a list prepared. As midnight arrived, I devoured those grapes with earnest determination, silently making my wishes.
One of those wishes was for three deserving couples to find their way to parenthood. I didn’t know how it could happen, but my hope for these deserving families burned brightly.
2024 began, as years do, with little fanfare. In early January, while sitting at a stoplight in a freezing rental car, an unusual thought came over me: It’s time to rework your relationship with the number four.
The number four had always unsettled me—a quiet superstition I carried for years. But something about that moment felt different, like an invitation to let go of an old grudge. Days later, I wandered into a local shop offering free 15-minute readings with a medium if you purchased a candle. I chose one with an owl on it because, obviously.
The reading was surprisingly insightful, but it wasn’t until the medium paused and told me to pay close attention to a particular number this year that I was floored. You guessed it—four.
As January progressed, I celebrated ten years at Platphorm and spent a weekend in New York City seeing Once Upon a Mattress. February arrived with a new (to us) minivan, and soon after, I traveled to Berkeley to support my sister as she opened ImagiKnit’s second location. There, I also reunited with Mariah and the moment I saw her, I knew she was pregnant.
Mariah and Blake were one of the couples I had wished for, and that night, as Katelyn and I chatted about those green grape wishes, we also awaited news about Lindsey. She and Chris were another couple on my list. Before bed, Kate shared a Marco Polo video from Zach, the final couple in my trio, revealing that he and Sarah were moving forward with finding a gestational carrier.
The next morning, Mariah confirmed her pregnancy over a joyful breakfast, and Lindsey shared hers shortly after (in the best reveal possible, another shout-out to Marco Polo). Two out of three couples were en route to being parents.
When I volunteered myself as a gestational carrier for Zach and Sarah, I was 100% sure I would NEVER be considered. My “advanced age,” a gestational diabetes diagnosis from my last pregnancy in 2020, and meds prescribed for antepartum anxiety/depression all seemed like immediate disqualifiers. Yet, when Zach reached out asking if I was serious, I decided to see how far this wild journey might take me—and dared the universe to stop me.
In the following months, life kept moving. I edited my book, pursued a new position at work, and began rehearsals for The Outsider. At the same time, I completed rounds of applications and medical screenings, waiting for the moment I’d inevitably be rejected.
By June 30, we closed The Outsider and hours later, on July 1 (Zach’s birthday), our family left for my in-person appointment at CCRM in Boston. There were multiple interviews, a physical exam, a hysteroscopy I squeezed my eyes shut for, and a bizarrely worded 300-question personality “quiz”. At every step, I was sure this would be the one that ruled me out. But again, the universe seemed determined to keep the door open.
As we waited for the final results, life marched on. We visited Cape Cod, had an incredible 4th of July family vacation with our favorite Collins crew, and I stepped into a new role as Community Manager for Platphorm’s three sites. Then, at the end of August, after more calls and working with lawyers, we got the green light. I started fertility meds, and the transfer was scheduled for September 20.
Pineapple socks, rose quartz, and room number four accompanied us through the procedure (followed by French fries, of course). Days later, I started secretly testing. On October 1, I shared the blood test results with Zach and Sarah: I was pregnant—they were parents.
In the weeks that followed, Mariah delivered her baby boy four days before my birthday, and Lindsey welcomed hers four days later.
Now, at 17 weeks pregnant with Zach and Sarah’s son, I look back at those twelve grapes under the table with gratitude. Wishes are fragile yet powerful things. They require strength, resilience, and bravery to put hope into something that may, at times, feel hopeless. To anyone holding onto something that feels impossibly far away, please keep in mind that wishing is vulnerable work. And, if you’re out there tonight, grasping your own green grapes, holding onto hope despite the odds, try to remember: the universe has a way of surprising us and it has a sense of humor. So thank you, 2024, the year wishes grew roots, friendships flourished, and I started growing some balls. These 525,600 minutes (plus one Leap Year day) unfolded in ways I could only dare to dream. May 2025 keep us all hopeful and if it ever feels heavy, I’m happy to help carry it with you.
