For those of you who know me very well, you likely know that I swore up and down God would never give me daughters. I swore to this because I DID NOT WANT DAUGHTERS. I am girly enough for a whole house (and possibly even a neighbor's house), and simply wanted to partake in the boyish pleasures of dirt, worms, trucks and those type of things. I taught kindergarten before God gave us kiddos and I swore that girls were caddy right out of the womb. They had a special way about them that seemed to be innately girly. They cared that 'so and so' didn't like their hair, and they cared that their tiny hair bow fell out at recess. Not only did they care, it was as if their world was falling apart. Boys on the other hand just seemed so much less dramatic. They could muster up the strength to play on their own and they were far more likely to hit someone who was mean to them rather than sob uncontrollably about it. I realize that this is all very sterotypical, but it seemed to be the truth. I had decided that based on my own dramatic tendencies, I would be a great mother to boys (too much of a good thing is not such a good thing). When I was pregnant with Logan, I remember when the ultrasound technician told us our baby was a boy. I was elated. I was thrilled that God and I were on the same page. We seemed to see eye to eye. Logan was a true joy and I couldn't wait for the band of brothers that would follow. About a year later, we found out we were having twins. At the ultrasound for the twins I made sure the technician knew that we were having boys, and that I didn't particularly care to have girls either. She saw baby A and announced it was a boy! YES! And when she saw baby B the technician said that we had better get used to the idea of a having a girl. I would be lying if I said I were totally thrilled, but I began to get used to the idea. Fast forward a few months to January when Mason and Mya were born. I was thrilled to add another boy to our family (Mr. Mason), and about melted when I laid eyes on the princess (Miss Mya). She was absolutely beautiful, delicate and feminine. She was the most beautiful thing the NICU had ever seen (at least that is my version). I was completely convinced that the doctors weren't discharging her because she was so amazingly cute. I remember the moment I walked into the NICU after they had given Mya a bath, and low and behold she was wearing A BOW! My heart pitter-pattered and did somersaults. My unrealized dreams had come true. I had my very own little princess to love and cherish. Since then I haven't looked back. I love to watch Mya, and I love all things pink, purple, lacey, soft, and GIRLY! Mya has such a sweet, tender way about her. She looks adoringly at the little buttons on her sweater. She gently touches jewelry almost as though she's petting it. She loves my make-up brushes, and she doesn't even eat the bristles! She loves her tea set and adores snuggling. Don't get me wrong, I know some boys love these things too, but Mya is so different from our boys (who couldn't care less about anything unless it has wheels or is used outside). She truly is a special creature that God created uniquely different from her brothers. I adore having sons and I couldn't imagine life without dirt and trucks, but sometimes I catch myself staring at Mya as she adoringly holds her baby doll, and I am reminded of God's lovingkindness. He knows what we need when we don't. All good and perfect gifts really are from Him!
Mya's first bow in the NICU...I still keep the picture on my phone!
Seasons of a Pastor's Wife
1 month ago