Can you hear me praying, Mama? Do you hear my voice? From the womb I can hear you talking about a choice. Someone is subtly telling you it would be better if I die. That's the same voice from the garden, the father of all lies, He tells you there will be no charge, you will not have to pay. That's the same story He told Eve, that led her astray. God formed me in your womb and put me in your hands.

Choosing you to carry me was just part of this plan. He trusted you to carry me and nourishment to give, binding us together for as long as we live. Let me see your eyes, your smile, the color of your hair, the way you walk and talk, the likeness that we bear. I'd like to hear you laugh, reach out and touch your skin. Give me a chance to know you and meet my next of kin.

Let me live to walk in the rain, to sing, to run, to smell the flowers, to feel the warmth of the sun. Also, Mama, when your hair turns to silver and your eyesight fades, I'll be there to help you, because of the choice for life you made. I'll hug your neck and tell you everything will be alright, kiss your cheek when I tuck you in at night.

If God would call you home before calling me, save me a seat right next to you.