This is my story. I won’t claim to write for every mom, adoptive moms and moms who are still dreaming of their children. But I know parts of my story will resonate with all of us who love a child under our roofs, lifted up with prayers and tears. And for those who long for that day.

Because I love you so much, Baby, I will dream you up before you even get here.

I will pray in your landing.

I will cry and beg and pray drunken Hannah prayers at the altar.

I will wait.

I will imagine the day I can hold you.

I will make a list of names for you. One will stand out.

While you’re only still a dream.

Because I love you so much, Baby, one day the answer will be “Yes”.

Two red lines, side by side, say you’re an appleseed deep within.

I will lean over the porcelain and ache and groan, but I’ll be saying Thank You.

I will lose sleep from trips to the potty and an aching body I can’t treat anymore.

I will exchange my body shape for a new one.

My clothes will lay in a heap in the closet, traded for ones that make room for you.

I will paint the walls that will soon surround you, make space for you.

Because I love you so much, Baby, some day you’ll press out of me with force.

I will know you’re coming. We are both ready.

With clenched fists, whispers and yells, I will breathe and push you into the world.

I will scoop you up and lay you on my skin and wonder at you.

I will forget the pain in a moment.

Everyone will want to hold you.

This, a bloody finish to one age, a triumphant beginning to the next.

Because I love you so much, Baby, I will take you home.

Swaddled and snug, you will captivate my gaze. IMG_0213

I won’t always know what you need when you cry, but I will be there.

And we will both cry together when we don’t know what to do.

I will trade sleep for time with you.

And you will grow fat, with wrinkles and rolls at wrists and ankles and elbows.

My belly might shrink like the doctors say, but then again, it might not.

Because I love you so much, Baby, I will endure sleep deprivation.

I will smell strange smells and slippery fluids.

I will wonder what is between my fingernails.

I will realize I have no idea how to be your Mother.

I will read books and watch TV shows and scour blogs and take copious notes.

And if nothing works, I will keep trying.

We will grow up together.

Because I love you so much, Baby, I will hold your hand tight when we cross the street.

You will want to let go, but I won’t.

I will feed you the good things and clean your dirty clothes.

I will play with you, teach you colors and letters and numbers.

I will tickle you under your neck and think up ways to delight you.

I will obsess over your happiness.

I will tuck you in with prayers and lullabies.

You will want to do it all yourself, but you will want my hugs when you fall down.

I will give you everything I have, teach you everything I know, for as long as you’ll let me.

And all I’ll want in return is your love.

Because I love you so much, Baby, one day I’ll let you go.

I will walk to the end of the aisle or watch as a cap soars through the air.

I won’t hold your hand, but I’ll hold your Dad’s, and I’ll clutch my Kleenex tight.

I will launch you into the universe with prayers and embraces.

I will want a promise you’ll come back to visit.

I will look at you, beaming and proud of you, and I’ll know you could never know

How I love you so much, Baby, and I gave up everything for you.

And to see you now, I know my So-Much Love was worth it all.

{Let’s stay in touch, shall we? Get all the updates to my blog by subscribing here, or follow me on Twitter or Facebook.} Blog Signature

4 thoughts on “A Mother’s Manifesto

    1. This post was definitely for you. I know I will be there some day, a little emotional and not ready for my baby to be a grown-up. I’m not really looking forward to that. Thank you for reading and connecting. Nice to meet other moms who are doing our best to be strong out here.


Comments are closed.