When I look at the three of them–really look at them–nothing else in the world matters.
“What is the one thing you want to accomplish in your life?”
I was issued that question so many times while growing up, mostly in a scholastic atmosphere. I’ve had several goals that have stuck out through my life. Goals I wanted to achieve, regardless of the sacrifice it took.
Get a bachelor’s degree in English Literature. Done.
My master’s. And I’m nearly done. But, only nearly.
Write a book. Yeah, that one’s still a dream.
But, fundamentally and before all else I’ve wanted to be a mother. I know. Eye rolls. Sounds lame. But, it is, deeper than any other goal, the one thing I have wanted to do my whole life. Not necessarily right away. I wasn’t the one who went to school to find a husband. I hadn’t been scouring the world for Mr. Right.
But, I wanted a family.
The moment that first tiny body is laid on you after his or her birth, everything about you changes. The way you think, the way you live, the way you exist. In a way that most cannot comprehend until that child is given to you. A fragile soul, a tiny body. Your responsibility is to raise that child into a healthy, responsible, and faithful functioning person. You either make or break a human being. You either instill a healthy mindset or shatter a child’s heart. It is as simple and as complex as that.
I have now had the honor of having three human beings laid upon my chest. I have had the privilege to carry and nourish three different souls inside of my body. I have three people in my home that I helped create.
I had always wanted to be pregnant during Advent. While the mother of God prepared for His birth, I could prepare for mine simultaneously. I had no idea what I was in for. Though, perhaps, neither did she. She rode, nine months pregnant, on the back of a donkey. She didn’t give birth in her home, where likely she would have preferred. She had Jesus in a dirty, filthy stable, surrounded by farm animals. Probably not a part of her “birth plan.” As I rode on my own journey to our little Nativity, preparing for our own birth, I held this image in my head repeatedly. And the last two months and then birth of our recent precious one, though a positive outcome, was not what I had envisioned. Like the Holy Birth, however, our sweet one was just fine.
Oh, you don’t need another girl! I’ll pray you have a boy!
Pray for what God thinks is best.
“If it’s a boy, are you done?”
Not a chance. God willing.
What are you going to do with all those girls?!
Love them! Treasure them. Teach them that real beauty is inside, and that they are precious and wonderful as God’s children. As my children. I will kiss them. I will hug them. I will love them. I will shower them with praise and affection. When I am too hard, when I fail, I will apologize. Ask their forgiveness. I will take their fragile hearts and strengthen them with my love and teach them of God’s love.
One of my dearest friends has three boys. Three precious, beautiful boys. And I told her this: When God gives a mother the same gender over and over, it’s because He sees a strength in that mother. A virtue. A capability to raise those precious children. He gives us what we need. What our children need.
I never prayed for a boy. I never prayed for a girl. I prayed for healthy. I prayed for what God saw fit for us. What He needed us to have. And we have three precious girls. I am so blessed!
In world that insists that certain numbers of children and particular genders are what makes an “average” family, what constitutes a “typical” home, I am so honored that God sees fit for us to break that mold. We get to be the different ones. Lots of pink, many bows, little shiny mary janes. Lots of tights, dresses, and slips.
Your poor husband!
Seriously? Have you seen him with these girls? He’s surrounded by women! What a lucky man! Women who idolize him! He’s always a hero here. A super man. A tender, loving, kind father. I’ve seen his face three times as a tiny bundle of pink is laid into his arms. I have seen his eyes mist and his face become so…soft. I’ve watched him hold the tiny bodies just below his face, and the tender love with which he gazes at that tiny girl. Three times. Three sweet girls. There needs to be more girls loved like this man loves his daughters. My poor husband? No. Then, you cannot possibly understand.
I have children!
My dream has come true!
Will you have more?
Oh, sweet Lord in Heaven, I hope so. More souls to cherish, more people to love. I love people! My sweet little people! And someday, who knows, the Lord may bless us with some blue. I have no regrets. No. Because I have my little pink bundles. Healthy, loved baby girls.