When I was a young girl and was planning out my life.
I'd spend hours dreaming of the man who would someday call me his wife.
He would be just like my father... hardworking, patient and sweet.
And our home would be filled with the pitter patter of our baby's little feet.
When I grew up I finally met the man who held my dreams.
Our life was everything I hoped, but it was not all that it seemed.
For our love could not triumph over all the obstacles we would ensue.
Our dreams of becoming parents would most likely not come true.
At night I’d get down on my knees and pray to God above.
Please bless me with a child to hold. Give me a child to love.
Oh, what I wouldn't give to be picking up his toys or
turning down the TV set or hushing his loud noise.
What I wouldn't give to be holding him in at night
as I kissed away his bad dreams and turned on his Pooh night light.
Our lives turned into doctor's visits and way too many tests.
Our hearts were breaking constantly. We gave it all our best.
Then one day I opened up my eyes and the answer I could finally see.
The baby we would be blessed with would not come from inside of me.
His mom couldn't keep him. She was way too young, we were told.
The moment he was placed into my arms, I knew he was mine to hold.
He didn't have my curls of brown or my husband's crooked smile.
But he would always have our hearts. He would always be our child.
Now at night I get down on my knees and pray to God above
and thank Him for our precious child, this boy who has our love.
I might complain a little when I'm picking up his toys,
or turning down the TV set or hushing his loud noise.
But I always am so thankful when he cries out in the night
that I now have a beautiful son to hold and to turn on his Pooh night light.