I want to sleep but I can’t.
I remember laying here every night rubbing my belly and once Hubbins drifted off, I would talk to my little one. I would tell him how much he meant to us. I would tell him what kind of day I had. I would tell him how excited we were to meet him. I would tell him that I wished he was growing strong.
I would pray. I would pray over his mind and his eyes and his hands and his feet. Hubbins suspected he was a boy; I thought he would be a girl so I would alternate my prayers.
I would pray that my daughter would grow up to be a graceful woman of God. I would pray she wouldn’t inherit my quick sometimes sharp tongue. I prayed that she knew she was beautiful and she would hold her head up high confident in what she could do. I prayed she would know her value. I prayed that she would see all the love she needed in her Daddy’s eyes and realize that there was no acceptance from any other man that mattered because her daddy loved her enough.
I would pray for my son. I would pray that he have a gentle spirit and grow to be a strong man of God. I prayed he would inherit his fathers patience and long suffering. I prayed that he would be safe. I prayed that as a young black man he would understand his power and the importance of his voice for right and for the things of God. I prayed that I would know how to raise him in a world that everyday told him he wasn’t good enough; wasn’t smart enough; wasn’t talented enough.
I asked God for knowledge on how to raise this child for Him. I prayed that in my feebleness I would be strong enough to raise a child who grew to love Jesus and would seek Him each day.
Now I don’t know what to pray for…