Lord Jesus, I am waiting too.
The infertility and adoption journey belongs most deeply to my child and their spouse, and I know their suffering is not mine to claim.
But I love them.
And because I love them, my heart aches beside theirs.
I have watched them hope.
I have watched them wait.
I have watched them go to appointments, endure procedures, consider treatments, fill out paperwork, answer questions, prepare their home, and open their hearts again and again.
I have watched months become years.
And there is so little I can do.
That may be one of the hardest parts of being a parent, Lord.
When my child was little and hurt, I could pick them up.
I could kiss the scraped knee.
I could sit beside the bed during a fever.
I could make a meal.
I could solve so many small problems simply by being Mom or Dad.
But my child is grown now.
And this is a hurt I cannot fix.
I cannot make conception happen.
I cannot make an adoption agency call.
I cannot choose a birth mother’s decision.
I cannot shorten the waiting.
I cannot promise my child that everything will turn out the way we have all prayed.
So teach me how to love them when I cannot rescue them.
Give me wisdom about when to speak and when to remain quiet.
Keep me from offering explanations when what they need is compassion.
Protect me from saying, “Just relax,” “It will happen when you stop trying,” “Everything happens for a reason,” or “You can always just adopt.”
Do not let my discomfort with their suffering make me rush them toward hope before they have been allowed to grieve.
Help me say instead:
“I love you.”
“I am here.”
“You do not have to pretend with me.”
“I am praying with you.”
And Lord, forgive me if my own longing for a grandchild has ever become another burden they have had to carry.
I do want a grandbaby.
I have imagined that little person.
I have imagined holding the baby for the first time.
I have wondered what I might be called.
Grandma.
Grandpa.
Nana.
Papa.
Or some name a toddler invents that no one planned.
I have imagined Christmas mornings, birthday cakes, bedtime stories, little shoes by the door, toys scattered across the floor, family photographs, sleepovers, trips to the park, and tiny arms wrapped around my neck.
I have imagined seeing my child become a mother or father.
And I want that very much.
But Lord, never let my desire for a grandchild make my child feel that they have disappointed me.
They owe me nothing.
They do not owe me a pregnancy.
They do not owe me an adoption.
They do not owe me grandchildren.
They are already my child.
And I am already grateful for them.
Help me tell them that.
Especially when they are hurting.
Especially if they secretly wonder whether they have failed us.
Let them know:
You have not failed this family.
If another one of my children has children easily, protect me from comparisons.
Never let me say something careless that makes infertility feel like a competition among siblings.
Never let family gatherings become places where the one without children feels invisible.
Help me remember that Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, baby showers, baptisms, pregnancy announcements, and holidays may contain both joy and pain.
Give me sensitivity without making my child feel watched or pitied.
If they need to leave early, let them leave.
If they cannot attend something, help me understand.
If they cry after everyone else has gone home, let me be a safe person to call.
Lord, I also pray for my child’s spouse.
This is their suffering too.
Help me love them without blame.
If infertility appears to come primarily from one spouse’s body, never allow me to think of that person as the reason my child does not have children.
Protect our family from that cruelty.
There is no guilty party here.
There are simply two people we love walking through something very difficult.
Help me protect their marriage rather than focusing so much on grandchildren that I forget the sacredness of the family they already are.
And Lord, if adoption is part of their journey, prepare my heart to become the grandparent that child needs.
Let me never speak of an adopted grandchild as less ours.
Let me honor that child’s birth family and history.
Help me understand that adoption may contain both tremendous love and genuine grief.
Give me patience if attachment takes time.
Let me follow the parents’ lead.
And if that child finally comes home, let my first concern be not what this child gives me, but how I can help this child know:
You are safe. You are wanted. You belong. You are loved.
Lord, somewhere there may be a woman whose life could someday intersect with our family’s story through adoption.
Bless her.
Protect her.
Protect her child.
Give her genuine support and freedom.
If she can and desires to parent her child safely, surround her with everything she needs to do so.
And if she freely discerns adoption, give her wisdom, peace, support, and people who will honor rather than exploit her vulnerability.
Do not let me pray selfishly for someone else’s crisis simply because I want a grandchild.
Teach me to pray first for what is truly good for that mother and child.
Jesus, I also ask boldly for the miracle our family desires.
If conception is possible, bring healing.
If it is Your will, let there be a baby.
Let there be the telephone call.
The positive test.
The heartbeat.
The ultrasound picture.
The adoption match.
The homecoming.
The moment when my child looks at me through tears and says:
“We’re going to have a baby.”
Lord, I would treasure that moment.
But until it comes, give me a grandparent’s heart before I ever become a grandparent.
Let all this unused tenderness become prayer rather than pressure.
Let the arms that long to hold a grandchild serve someone who needs holding now.
Let the stories I hoped to tell a grandchild be told to the children already around me.
Let my longing enlarge my heart instead of narrowing it.
Our Lady of Guadalupe, Mother of the unborn Christ, cover my child and their spouse beneath your mantle.
St. Joseph, protect their marriage and their home.
Blessed Fulton Sheen, intercede before Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament for families suffering infertility and waiting through adoption.
And Mary, teach me something about standing beside my adult child when I cannot remove their suffering.
You stood beneath the Cross.
You could not make the Cross disappear.
You could not take your Son’s suffering away.
But you stayed.
Teach me to stay.
To pray.
To love.
To hope without demanding.
To encourage without pressuring.
To grieve without making my child responsible for my grief.
And to trust that even here, God is present.
Lord Jesus, I place the grandchild I long for into Your hands.
If that child will someday exist, bless that little one even now according to Your providence.
And if the future looks different from the one I have imagined, help me remain faithful to the people standing in front of me today.
Because before I ever prayed to become a grandparent, You gave me the extraordinary privilege of becoming a parent.
Help me never become so focused on the next generation that I forget to love the child You already entrusted to me.
So while I wait, let my child hear this clearly:
You are enough.
I am proud to be your parent.
You have not disappointed me.
I love you with or without grandchildren.
And if someday You place that long-awaited baby into our family, Lord, I promise to remember how many prayers came before that tiny face.
Always remember Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
Holy Family! Help us to be a holy family and pray for us!
Amen.