Last night I dreamed of babies. Little girl babies. Somehow, in my heart, I think our baby will be a girl, when we are finally matched and an adoption goes through. I don't know why, that's just how I feel. If we do adopt a boy baby, I am sure I will be just as excited, for the record! Any baby will work his/her way into my heart.
This morning was rough, though. All through church I kept thinking about the baby that was almost mine, and how I hoped she was doing okay. I pray that she is warm and safe and happy and loved. Charlie reminded me that our birthmother had been a great mom to her other two children and was most likely doing a great job with this baby, too. It is a small comfort. I walk past our nursery and I think about how I was supposed to sit in that rocker and rock her to sleep. I think about the clothes in the closet and the diaper bag, ready to go. It isn't easy.
I know that the reality is, when we are matched with a new birthmother and baby, all this will fade into the background. And while I may never completely let go of this little girl, I will be caught up in mothering the child in my arms. That makes perfect sense. But while I'm stuck here in this waiting place, I think about that baby and pray for her.
I have been keeping up with several other women who are in this waiting place and with others who have already adopted children. Mommy Womble is still in China, picking up her daughter, and those posts have made me cry, over and over. The Womble Times is on my sidebar, so check it out and cry along with me. You'll be ooohing and ahhhing and praying for the Wombles as they travel home.
Pray for us, please! We'll take what we can get.
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