Dear Baby,

More than anything, I want to be a mommy. I feel most at peace with a baby in my arms. I want to invest my life in another life. I want to watch a child grow. I want to put the care of another life above my own.

For some obvious reasons, motherhood is not in the cards for me today. I’m not one to sit still and let life pass me by, so I’ve decided to do foster care. For several months, I have been researching the process and the options. Although I’ve been told I’m not “old and dried up” and that “it will limit my boyfriend choices,” my mom and dearest friends support me. I know, without a doubt, that this is what I should be doing. Tally ho!

On Wednesday, I was supposed to attend an informational meeting. When the meeting was cancelled, I called my mom, and with a cracking voice, I told her. I was surprised that my emotions followed so quickly.

I know why I was so disappointed. It’s because I’m one more step away from meeting you. I’ve been thinking about you, dear foster baby, for quite a while now. I’ve thought about where to place your crib. I’ve wondered about your smile, your name, your ethnicity, your sleep patterns, your birth parents, and the neglect you’ve experienced in your few short months. Secretly, you’ve been on my mind for a while now. I wonder what size you wear and which brand of binkie you prefer. I pretend I’m researching the logistics of foster parenting, but I’ve realized that those details don’t interest me. Instead, I wonder about you. I love you, already, with a love that is so very human and so remarkably true.

I can’t wait to meet you, precious child.