Lord Jesus, we thought this might be our child.
Maybe we tried not to get ahead of ourselves.
Maybe we told ourselves:
Do not fall in love yet.
Do not assume anything.
Guard your heart.
But how do you prepare to become someone’s mother or father without allowing your heart to move toward that child?
We imagined.
We hoped.
Perhaps we saw an ultrasound picture.
Perhaps we learned whether the baby was a boy or girl.
Perhaps we knew a due date.
Perhaps we heard a name.
Perhaps we met the expectant mother.
Perhaps we traveled.
Perhaps bags were packed.
Perhaps the car seat was installed.
Perhaps the crib was made.
Perhaps grandparents were waiting beside their phones.
Perhaps we stood at the edge of the life we had prayed for and thought:
This is finally happening.
And then it did not.
The mother decided to parent.
The father stepped forward.
Family members offered support.
Another adoptive family was chosen.
Circumstances changed.
A legal problem arose.
Or perhaps everything simply unraveled in a way we still do not completely understand.
And now we are home with empty arms again.
Jesus, this hurts.
We know that before placement and the proper legal process, this child was not ours.
We know an expectant mother has the right to discern freely.
We know adoption must never depend upon coercing a mother away from her child.
We know that if parents can safely raise their baby and desire to do so, supporting that family can be a good and beautiful outcome.
We can know all of that—
and still grieve.
Help us hold both truths without forcing one to erase the other.
If a mother decided to parent her baby, bless her.
Give her everything she needs to do it well.
Housing.
Food.
Medical care.
Childcare.
Employment.
Family support.
Wise friends.
Courage.
Faith.
Patience.
Protection.
Let the people who told her, “You can do this,” still be standing beside her six months from now, two years from now, and when parenting becomes difficult.
If the child’s father stepped forward responsibly, bless him.
Help him become the father his child needs.
If grandparents or relatives are helping keep a child safely within the family, strengthen them.
And Lord, while we pray for their good, please care for our grief too.
Because something ended for us.
Not a parent-child relationship that had already legally and permanently become ours, perhaps.
But a hope.
A future we had begun imagining.
A story our hearts had already started writing.
We may have pictured the first night home.
The baptism.
Christmas.
Birthdays.
First steps.
School.
A lifetime.
And now that imagined future has disappeared.
Lord, grief over a failed adoption match can be strange because people may not know what to call it.
They may say:
“But the baby wasn’t yours yet.”
We know.
But our hearts had begun preparing to love.
And now they need somewhere to place that love.
Give us permission to mourn without claiming a relationship that was not yet ours.
Help us speak truthfully about what happened while honoring how deeply it affected us.
Jesus, if we had already met or held the child before circumstances changed, the grief may be even sharper.
Our arms remember.
Our senses remember.
A photograph may remain on our phone.
A blanket may still smell like the hospital.
A tiny wristband or keepsake may sit in a drawer.
Be gentle with us.
Help us discern what to keep, what to put away, and what we are not ready to decide about yet.
There is no need to rush grief.
Lord, protect us from anger toward the child’s mother.
Especially if she changed her mind.
She may have made the most difficult decision of her life.
If she chose to parent, help us remember that adoption exists to serve children—not to guarantee children to waiting adults.
Her decision is not theft.
Her child was not something owed to us.
But Jesus, You know that saying those words does not magically stop our hearts from breaking.
So let us cry.
Let us be disappointed.
Let us admit:
We wanted this baby to come home with us.
We can honor her freedom and still say that.
If we feel anger, help us bring it to You rather than directing it at her.
If promises were broken dishonestly or people acted unethically, lead us toward truth, appropriate boundaries, and justice without allowing bitterness to consume us.
If no one did anything wrong and circumstances simply changed, help us resist the desperate need to find someone to blame.
Lord, protect our marriage.
One of us may be ready to try again immediately.
The other may say:
I cannot do this again.
One may want to talk about the child constantly.
The other may need silence.
One may cry openly.
The other may become practical and start dealing with paperwork.
Do not let different grief become division.
Help us say:
“I know this hurt you too.”
Let us be tender with one another.
Lord, protect the grandparents and extended family who had begun hoping too.
They may have bought gifts.
Prepared a room.
Told close friends.
Imagined a grandchild.
Give them wisdom to grieve without making the prospective adoptive parents responsible for comforting everyone else.
Let them surround the couple rather than asking the couple to hold them up.
And Lord, there may be an empty nursery waiting at home.
Walking into it may feel unbearable.
The crib may already be assembled.
Diapers stacked.
Clothes washed.
Books on shelves.
Perhaps the child’s name is somewhere in the room.
What do we do with all of it now?
Jesus, sit with us there.
We do not have to dismantle everything tonight.
We do not have to keep everything exactly as it is either.
Help us move at the pace healing requires.
If we close the door for a while, be behind the door.
If we sit in the rocking chair and sob, sit beside us.
If someday we open that room again with hope, be there then too.
Lord, protect us from believing this failed match means we were rejected as people.
If another family was chosen, that does not mean they were better and we were worse.
If an expectant mother chose to parent, that does not mean our family was not good enough.
If circumstances changed, that does not mean You are punishing us.
Do not let one outcome become a verdict on our marriage, our home, or our ability to love a child.
And protect us from superstition.
We may search backward for a reason.
Did we tell people too soon?
Did we buy something too early?
Were we too excited?
Did we say the wrong prayer?
Did we somehow jinx it?
No, Lord.
Hope did not cause this.
Buying a onesie did not cause this.
Allowing ourselves to love did not cause this.
We do not have that kind of control.
Free us from the illusion that if we had guarded our hearts perfectly, we could have prevented pain.
A completely guarded heart cannot love.
Lord, when people say:
“The right baby will come.”
help us receive the kindness they intend without forcing ourselves to pretend those words answer everything.
We do not know what will happen.
There may be another match.
There may be another long wait.
There may be more disappointment.
There may be a child someday.
We cannot see ahead.
So give us grace for today.
If we need a break from the adoption process, give us permission to take one.
If we are ready to continue, give us courage.
If something about our agency, attorney, or process needs to change, give us wisdom.
If we need counseling after this loss, lead us to someone who understands adoption grief.
Do not let desperation push us into unsafe, unethical, or unwise situations simply because we are terrified of waiting again.
Lord, if another expectant mother someday considers us, help us enter that relationship with hope but without possession.
Let this experience make us more compassionate, not more controlling.
We cannot guarantee ourselves against another heartbreak.
But we can choose to act with integrity.
And Jesus, please protect the child involved in this match.
Wherever that little one grows up, let the child be safe.
Loved.
Fed.
Held.
Protected.
Taught.
Comforted.
Known.
If we never see that child again, let us still pray:
Lord, give this child a beautiful life.
That prayer may hurt.
Receive it anyway.
Perhaps loving this child for a short season of expectation can become something holy if we release that love without demanding ownership.
Mary, you knew what it meant to ponder things you did not understand.
Stay beside us.
Our Lady of Guadalupe, cover the child and the child’s mother beneath your mantle.
St. Joseph, protect the fathers involved and the man whose hoped-for fatherhood suddenly disappeared again.
Blessed Fulton Sheen, intercede for us before Jesus in the Eucharist when our hearts are too exhausted to form another prayer.
And Holy Family, protect our home from despair.
We thought someone was coming.
Now the house is quiet again.
Stay here.
Do not let emptiness convince us that You have left.
Lord Jesus, we surrender this particular child to You.
That does not mean we pretend we never hoped.
It does not mean we erase the photographs, memories, or prayers.
It means we acknowledge what we cannot control.
This child’s life belongs first to You.
Bless the child.
Bless the mother.
Bless the father.
Bless the family who will raise this little one.
And bless us as we learn how to let go.
Then, when we are ready, help us hope again.
Not because You have guaranteed the outcome we want.
But because love is still possible after disappointment.
If there is a child who will someday be entrusted to our family, guide our paths toward one another in Your time.
And if the phone rings again, give us courage to answer it.
Until then, when we look at the empty crib and remember the baby we thought might sleep there, let us pray:
Jesus, I wanted this child.
I release this child into Your care.
Bless this little one wherever life leads.
Heal the place in me that had already begun making room.
And when the time is right, teach my heart how to open again.
Our Lady of Guadalupe, pray for us.
St. Joseph, pray for us.
Blessed Fulton Sheen, pray for us.
Always remember Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
Holy Family! Help us to be a holy family and pray for us!
Amen.