Sometimes I just need a little space to grieve this lost mother-time. Our baby A has almost certainly been born by now. I should be more careful about looking at pictures of little African faces, because I can get kind of overwhelmed with thoughts.
Is he okay right now? It's 8 hours ahead in Uganda, so he's almost assuredly asleep. When he wakes up, will he see his birth mother, or anyone whose face comforts him? Will someone be there to care for him? Is he hungry or frightened? Is he okay?
Is my child, my little baby, okay?
You moms (and anyone with a knack for empathy) know how distressing that thought is. You also know that mother-love doesn't know time zones or continents or legalities or even time. Yes, technically I don't know if our child is a he or she (I tend to refer to baby A as a boy because that's what is familiar to me) or when s/he will become a Muenich. But my children are my children. I loved Ezra long before he was conceived; I love baby A long before we know who baby A is. But Ezra was with me from the time he was created. I've never had to wonder if he was safe or starving or being hurt. When he's sick, I care for him. When he's scared, I comfort him. When he's hungry, I feed him.
Perhaps I'm mostly grieving the loss of control of care. I can't protect my child, and I don't know how to deal with it emotionally. I suppose I'll have my cry and place baby A at the Lord's feet. Which, apparently, is a lot harder to do when you can't also be doing all the protecting yourself... merrr. Good to know you've been secretly relying on yourself. Whoops, sorry God!