"Why me?" It's a question I've asked a thousand times, laced with frustration. But this time, driving home from the OB appointment, it was different.  After months and months of believing Jesus would send us a birth mother and give us a baby, I was done.

We had been emailing for about a month and she asked me to meet her for lunch and then go with her to an OB appointment. After requesting a day off from work, emptying my closet to find something to wear, spending about an hour on my hair and makeup, and tossing and turning all night the night before the appointment, I was finally ready to go meet this young girl who could be her.  The entire drive there I tried to imagine how our conversation would go and what questions she would ask me. I pulled into the restaurant and looked at the clock, 15 minutes early... perfect. We had agreed to meet there first so we had time to get to know each other a little before the appointment. As cars pulled in and parked, I watched people get out and go inside, silently determining whether or not they could be her. I waited, and waited, and waited. After thirty minutes I determined she was wasn't coming. But I wouldn't give up that easy... I drove over to the OB office convincing myself she had been running late and had no way to contact me—that had to be it. She was a teenager after all, so I had to be a little lenient right? God wouldn't bring me through everything I had been through, to finally have a potential match, and let me face another let-down right?!

As I walked into that waiting room full of pregnant women, our eyes met. She saw me, and I saw her. In that moment it became obvious, as all of my worked-up confidence seeped into the floor beneath me, that she had changed her mind. After an awkward exchange, I quickly excused myself. I held it all together, perfectly poised, remaining calm and collected as I walked out to my car that day. I pulled the car out of the parking lot, and it was as if something in me just snapped. I cried and I screamed until I literally had nothing left. I was humiliated, heartbroken, and angry... but I just felt empty. It was then the words rolled off my tongue before I could think what I was saying, "God, I'm done." 

I knew God had called us to adopt, but in that moment I doubted that truth with everything inside of me. I knew that God wanted more for me than I could ever want for myself, but in my car that day I questioned that. It wasn't the "Christian" response I should have had, and it isn't something I am proud of... but it's real. And I wonder if maybe I'm not the only waiting mama who has felt this way...

Sometimes our public reactions in the midst of difficult circumstances aren't the most accurate gauge of the overwhelming reality we're silently experiencing. 

It's okay for us to be honest in our conversations with God. He desires that intimacy and realness in a way we can't comprehend. He wants me to come to Him emotionally drained and "done" with whatever I'm facing, so that I recognize when He does move, that it had nothing to do with my effort. I've found that often the only thing that's keeping Him from moving in our current circumstance is our perceived control over the situation. 

About 15 minutes into my drive home my phone rang. It was my attorney explaining that a birth mother had just walked into his office only moments before and requested our portfolio. He went on to say that they wanted to meet us that afternoon if at all possible, because they wanted us to adopt the child she was carrying. One month later, my son was placed into my arms. 

Sweet friends, sometimes the only answer to "why me" is God's sovereignty.

The only answer to “why me” is God’s sovereignty.
— Elizabeth Bordeaux

Today wherever you are in your adoption journey, in the midst of your waiting hear this beautiful truth: If it is not good, it is not over. 

Our God is sovereign, and He is a good, good Father. He is writing such a beautiful story of His faithfulness during your wait. With each day that passes, He is molding and equipping you to be the mother your future son or daughter so desperately needs you to be. Lay down the pressure to react to your hard days in a "Christian" way. Lean in to Jesus and just let go—He can handle the reality of our brokenness. 

"Cast your cares on the LORD and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken." (Psalm 55:22)