In September 2022, I traveled to Morocco with to meet two potential matches. I was overflowing with excitement, convinced that I was about to meet the child who would soon become my own. My dream of motherhood was finally within reach.

However, after meeting the children, I was struck by a deep sense of doubt, neither child seemed to be the right fit. I couldn’t shake the feeling. Even as I write this, it’s difficult to pinpoint exactly what caused my hesitation. Part of it was the realization that I wasn’t fully equipped to meet the needs of these children. I hadn’t prepared for this moment and now I was faced with an agonizing decision, should I choose one and hope for the best, or should I walk away, knowing I might not find another match anytime soon—or perhaps ever?

After much reflection and conversations with my sister and social worker, I made the painful decision not to proceed. Adoption and motherhood are immense commitments, and I knew I had to be absolutely certain before taking that step. Yet, there were moments when doubt crept in. Was my hesitation a sign that I wasn’t ready to adopt? Was I sabotaging my chances of becoming a mother?

Despite my doubts, deep down, I knew those matches weren’t meant for me. Eventually, I made peace with my decision, trusting that the right child would come at the right time. For the next two weeks, I immersed myself in exploring the beauty of Morocco, though my mind distracted with questions I couldn’t answer.

Then, just two days before my flight home, my lawyer suggested visiting an orphanage. Since I was already in Morocco, I agreed, but I had no expectation of finding a match. My lawyer wasn’t sure if any children would be available for adoption. When I arrived, the Director suggested I return the next day to meet a little girl who had just turned two. However, I first needed approval from the family court before meeting any children. The following morning, as I walked to meet my lawyer, I prayed for guidance, asking that if this child was meant for me, the process would be smooth. I felt nervous. What if I felt the same hesitation I had with the previous matches?

As soon as I arrived at the orphanage, a staff member brought down the little girl. I immediately noticed her shyness and caution. We were led to a small room where families typically spend time with their children. For the next hour, we played together. Slowly, she began to warm up, first making eye contact, then sitting beside me. And then, she hugged me. In that simple moment, I felt a peace I hadn’t experienced before—one that had been missing with the other children. The staff asked if I was ready to proceed with the adoption. The situation was moving so quickly, and I didn’t expect to make a decision on the spot. Despite the whirlwind, there was an undeniable, deep sense that this was the right choice.

Leaving Morocco the next day was difficult. The past two weeks had been emotionally draining. But as I boarded my flight back to Canada, I knew that my journey was only just beginning.

One of the most exhilarating parts of the adoption process is receiving a match. From the moment I heard about a child, even before seeing their photo—my mind began to envision a life together. Coming to the realization that the matches weren’t right for me was profoundly heartbreaking. For a long time I carried guilt and a feeling that I had let down these children.

I still think of them, and with all my heart, I pray that they’re safe and have found families to love them. Although saying no was an incredibly difficult decision, it was made with trust—trust in my instincts and in the belief that the right child would come when the time was right. This experience reaffirmed the importance of trust—tawakkul—and though the path I traveled had its bumps and hurdles, it ultimately led me to where I was meant to be.

It was meant to be that I would meet Nour, and together, we would become a family.