I've never met a baby that could be mine. I've only ever held other people's children. Children who had parents close by, who knew mommy and daddy from the first moment of life, who would never need to ask "who are my birth parents?"
I am a strange mix of excitement, joy, anxiety, sorrow, giddy-ness, and apprehension. What will it be like when I hold her? What will it be like when she grabs on to my finger with her sweet little hand? Will I get to feed her? Can I kiss her? Will I want to? What will I feel as I hand her back to her foster mother when it's time for us to go home? I don't know.
Oh, Sweet Baby, I wanted very much to be your foster mother while the legal technicalities of your future were hammered out. I wanted to hold you and feed you and sleep close by every night, watching you breathe, knowing that your mother wanted us in your life, no matter how long we got to take care of you... I know that God has a plan, though, so I must trust Him that this is the best way. I miss you already, Baby, even though I haven't met you. I can't wait to hold you, even if just once.