Still, today we have no idea what awaits us on Monday.  We discuss the healthy vs. unhealthy child issue, the baby boy vs. girl issue, the possibility of having to return home to begin the adoption process all over again (if there are no healthy babies available).

We’re tired, confused, and feel very much like fish out of water.  It doesn’t help that absolutely no one we meet speaks English, and then we just feel plain stupid.

We spend the day playing “What If?”

At one point, I relate to Dan a very vivid dream I had last night.  I found a black three-ringed binder on a patch of green lawn.  On the front was a white inlay with the following words: “Benjamin’s Story.”  Inside were 12 – 15 pages of typed pages.  I knew I was supposed to read them, and I did.  It was a strange story of abuse.  The father of the boy had repeatedly hit the boy with a beaded contraption (a sort of beaded file box) which also held the father’s collection of phonograph records (weird, I know, but it was a dream).  I remember crying uncontrollably in my dream, and specifically, aching to tell Dan about this.

When I relate the dream to Dan, he says, “I had been trying to come up with boys’ names, and I couldn’t think of any.  Benjamin is a good name.”  We decide that if the boy’s name is Benjamin, we would choose to see him.

So, without a baby name book or Wi-Fi access (to look up baby boy names), we drift off to sleep, murmuring to each other that Benjamin James might be a good name for a little boy.