Three girls. We had three daughters, and even the girl was a dog. I watched my husband with our little ladies, and he was just perfect. He was a man, a big, tough guy, but something about having daughters brought out the best in him.
I saw a protectiveness I never knew he was capable of, and it made me proud. It made me feel safe, for them and myself. Their presence seemed to cultivate his kindness, and while in their company a gentle spirit emanated from his being. He led them with a strict, fair consistency, but he also handled them gently and compassionately. His parenting of little girls was like a work of art, and watching him kiss their booboos or allowing them to brush and fashion pink bows in his hair made me love him even more.
The gentle giant that melted under the gaze of his gaggle of girls made me certain God had created him precisely for such a task as this.
Yet, when I became pregnant again my thoughts were on a male son.
He needs a boy.
Doesn’t every father need a son to carry on his name? That’s certainly what everyone said, and not a day passed since I announced the pregnancy that someone didn’t proclaim, “Perhaps now God will bless you with a son.” Or something similar.
In fact everyone felt certain our next child would be a boy. The odds certainly pointed in our favor, and most people seemed very excited over the prospect of us finally bearing a boy child. Even I was in agreement, and I felt the general consensus that my husband needed a son.
And so we waited.
Yet in all the waiting the one person who never spoke of the baby growing in my womb to be a boy was his own father. My husband never voiced a desire that it be a male, and he even told me a few times with a smile, “We will have another daughter.”
When the day came that I had eagerly anticipated my spouse seemed indifferent to the whole ordeal, and though he made it clear he wished to be present, he seemed to lack the nervous expectancy I carried.
I just wanted it to be a son. For him. And though I worried what in the world I would do with a boy when it finally came, I wished to give my husband that gift.
I watched with baited breath as she ran the ultrasound wand over my swelling belly, and it didn’t take long to see a sight I was accustomed to. I waited for her words to confirm what I already knew, and before she could even speak my husband belted out joyfully, “it’s another girl!”
Later in the car I felt competing emotions running under the surface. I was so elated, but a mild dismay lingered. I grabbed my husband’s hand, looked at his face, and could tell immediately his feelings were different than mine. A smooth river of radiance flowed there, a calm contentment was his countenance.
But still I asked, “Are you disappointed?”
I just had to know. I had to know if his dreams of a son were dashed, and if he felt resigned to only be a girl-daddy forever.
But he answered honestly with a soft smile, “Of course not. Why would I be disappointed? Didn’t I tell you it was another girl?”
As we continued to laugh and speak about God’s plan for our family my heart filled, and any feeling of lacking I thought I might have felt also dissipated. He knew what God had for him as a father, and he was just fine with that.
I loved our daughters like he loved our daughters, but his care of them was something I couldn’t replicate. Only he could show them what a loving man was to be in their lives. Only he could provide them that certain kind of steely strength and protection. And only he could show them the Father Heart of God.
In turn they showed him the gentleness and soft spirit God places in a female’s heart, and somehow his recognition of a lady’s mind and soul served our marriage well. They had him wrapped around his finger, and he had them lassoed into his strong arms. And I got to be a part of it all.
God had blessed us after all. He had blessed us with another daughter, and despite anyone’s concerns over my husband’s feelings (including myself), the fact remained we had precisely what we needed and even wanted.
It seems God made us to be parents of little girls, and considering how perfect it all works out I can’t imagine it any other way. I don’t think my husband can either, and deep down we don’t want to.
We’re not disappointed so you don’t have to be either. We’re not disappointed; we’re blessed beyond measure. We don’t feel like our family is lacking; we’re too busy with the precious lot we’ve been given. We’ve been entrusted with girls that we have the privilege of molding into women, and that sounds just fine to us.
I have decided there’s no perfect, nuclear family by a worldly definition. There’s only what’s perfect for us. There’s what God has placed before us, and really, who could be disappointed about that?