I always wanted to be a boy mom.

When I found out I was pregnant I was sure it had to be a boy. We took an early gender test that confirmed it was a boy (lol).

I was so relieved. I “had no idea how I’d raise a daughter with all the princesses and bows and “girl drama”.

Then at 20 weeks, the anatomy scan rocked my world––our baby was a girl. I’d grown attached to the son I thought I was having.

I still didn’t know how I’d raise a daughter. I still couldn’t get past the visions of pink frills and catty middle school girls.

But over the next months, God continued to rock my world like he tends to do.

My heart changed slowly, but drastically.

My paradigm of womanhood shifted.

To be strong didn’t mean to be “one of the guys”.

To be gentle didn’t mean to be soft.

And, less monumentally, there are cute, non-pink and frilly, girl clothes (but Em, you rock the pink frill if that’s what you want when you’re able to tell me that).

It was Emory all along. She was the daughter he created for me and prepared me to mother. I was the mother he designed to lead her and set an example for her. Nathaniel was the dad hand-knit to shepherd her little soul.

Here’s to strong, gentle, wise, bold daughters of God.