Each and every time the thought that I might get nominated came into my head, I pushed it out. I reminded myself how critically successful “The Jinx” had been, how many people had seen it and liked it and how proud I would be of the work, no matter what the Emmy nominations yielded.

The news came first as part of a cryptic e-mail from a colleague, a simple list of six categories, “Best Editing for Nonfiction Programming” among them.

“I think I just got nominated for an Emmy,” I said to Ben on one of our last days in the edit room for his boxing film, “Bleed for This.”

“No way!” he yelled in excitement.

The news was confirmed when my agent called me. “Congratulations,” she said warmly. “I just re-wrote the beginning of your bio, want to hear how it starts?”

“Sure.”

“Emmy-nominated editor.” I could tell she was smiling; so was I.

Ben took me to a great lunch and for the rest of the day a bunch of nice texts and congratulation calls trickled in.

I knew a couple of the other editing nominees, and they basically included all of my favorite documentaries that had come out on HBO over the past year. It was a flattering group to be included in. Over email we began to jokingly trash talk with each other.

A few weeks later the invitation came in a thick envelope, “Congratulations nominee” printed boldly on expensive paper. The kicker… the ceremony was to be held on my birthday.

A stylist friend hooked Emily up with some beautiful designer dresses and I was fitted for my tux at the absolute last minute. As I stood half dressed, looking at myself in the mirror, I started to get nervous. No turning back now; it was all really happening.

We flew out to Los Angeles for the Creative Arts Emmy’s, held one week before the big televised event.

The day of the ceremony I was a ball of nerves. We had breakfast and then got ready to leave. Emily looked absolutely beautiful, and we stood together as she tied my bow tie.

“Win or lose, let’s have a blast,” I said.

“It’s not me you have to worry about,” she said with a smile.

I wrote out bullet points of an acceptance speech and practiced it once or twice, but then felt too silly to continue. There was no way we were going to win. I folded it carefully and put it in my pocket.

The team was reunited, with lots of smiles and hugs, as we were whisked down the red carpet. Flashbulbs and confusion about who this group of unrecognizable people are. “It’s the team from the Jinx,” someone said.

A photographer shouted, “Do you think he did it?”

The lobby was a sea of people, and eventually we found our way to our seats. The stage was huge, bright and colorful. Huge cameras on jibs flew over our heads; they were televising the ceremony to be broadcast right before the regular Emmy’s....

Mel Brooks was the first presenter and we were off. They moved through the awards quickly. One right after the other. I didn’t know when the editing awards would be given away, and all of a sudden a very good-looking couple was talking about having to present without messing up.

“We’ve got one take, no editing here…”

I lowered my head and closed my eyes. First were a few other editing awards, comedy sitcom and something else and suddenly “Best non-fiction editing.” My hands were numb as they read the nominees.

I squeezed Emily’s hand as they opened the envelope, “The Emmy goes to... The Jinx!” Screams all around and then it was as if the sound cut out. I saw us moving in slow motion as I walked toward the stage with the rest of the team.

It had been decided that I would be the one to speak, having been the lead editor of the team. They handed me the Emmy. I didn’t take my notes from my pocket.

I stammered some disjointed sentences thanking the other editors in my category. “Go HBO.” A huge digital clock counting down stared me in the face. I could see and hear myself speaking but felt like I had no control.

I thanked Andrew and Marc, the director and producer. I thanked my wife, Emily. I looked down and saw Allison Janney staring up at me. My mind went blank. Um. Um. I stammered. I wished I had taken that list out of my pocket.

“Thank you to the academy. Bye bye.” (OK, so it wasn’t the most eloquent moment in my life.)

We were ushered backstage through a sea of wires and people with clipboards. The statue was taken away and rotated back to be presented to the next person. We were led through a labyrinth of hallways into the trophy room. Inside were hundreds of shiny gold statues. Someone handed me an Emmy. And it hit me. An Emmy. My Emmy! A photo was snapped, and we were spit back out into the auditorium.

Slipping back in my seat I kissed Emily and held the statue tightly. A large sense of relief and pride rushed over me as I did my best to savor the moment.

Now, a few months later, from time to time I wonder if it all really happened. Sometimes I wonder so hard that I have to get up and actually check if the statue is still there. I hope that feeling never goes away.