Historically, when I’ve prayed about us adopting, I’ve simply asked for our child to find his or her way to us, whenever and however that is supposed to happen. All in God’s time, after all. Today I guess I didn’t have it in me to do that. As I was sitting in the parking lot of my allergist's office, waiting to be able to leave after my allergy shot, I closed my eyes and prayed.

Dear God,

I want to raise this beautiful little boy.
I want to watch O show him how to throw a football.
I want to dye Easter eggs with him for the Easter Bunny to hide.
I want to see his crazy curly hair radiating around his head like a halo every morning.
I want to teach him his ABC’s.
I want to meet his first girlfriend.
I want to cry when we send him off to kindergarten. And college.
I want to comfort him when he has a bad dream.
I want to roll my eyes and sigh when he’s fingerpainted my fridge with pudding. Again.
I want to send him into our backyard to run off some of his energy with our sweet dog Jackson.
I want to blow bubbles with him.
I want to make him giggle with delight.
I want to see him crawl up in O’s lap to watch TV.
I want to shudder at the cost of the shoes for his xx-wide feet.
I want to hear him read his first book.
I want to go to his ball games, or his concerts, or his plays.
I want to toss him into the tub after a long, dirty day of playing on the farm.
I want to teach him to drive. Well, maybe O will have to do that.
I want to wash his clothes and make his food and listen to his chatter.
I want to kiss his owies and make everything okay for him for as long as I can.
I want to hear what he sounds like when he sings.
I want to look into his face and marvel that he’s ours.
I want to make him lunches that he’ll trade for candy and rocks in the lunchroom.
I want to take him to the ocean and watch him bob in the waves.
I want to make sure he knows how much his birthmom loves him.
I want to be his mom.

I don’t know if any of these dreams about Chris will come true. It’s not looking good at this point. But I'm praying they do. I'm praying so hard.