To My Precious Little Daughter

Love this guest post from Abby. I had similar but different worries with boys. I think we all worry that the world will hurt them.

To My Precious Little Daughter,

This morning when I woke, I thought of you- of your tiny fingers peeking out behind your head yesterday during the ultrasound. I laughed because I felt like you were waving, saying, “Hey, Mommy.”

I thought about your strong heartbeat. The nurse was especially impressed by this.

And, I thought of you wiggling around in my belly as they tried to measure you. You wouldn’t give them a good view of your face, and it frustrated them, but it made me laugh.

Then, my mind wondered to that little yellow envelope with “congratulations” written across it. I agonized for three whole hours waiting for your Daddy to come home so we could open it together. I thought of our excitement as we saw the picture of you and it read: girl!!

I thought of your dad telling me you were going to be a tomboy and that you would learn to drive fast cars and go hunting with him.

I thought about the blank stares daddy and I gave each other last night as we tried to wrap our minds around parenting a little girl.

You see, little one, when I read: girl, my mind didn’t flash to all the pink ribbons and bows.

Mommy thought of the pressure of being a girl in this world.

Then, this morning, I thought of you and this pressure again as I lathered moisturizer and stretch mark prevention lotion all over… my. entire. body. And again, as I straightened my hair, accessorized my outfit, and put on my makeup.

Then, I let my thoughts wander a little more. (This happens to Mommy often.)

And, I remembered the voices. All the voices.  And, my heart felt burdened.

The voices from the “mean girls” in middle school, the isolation, and their hurtful words. The voice of the first boy who told me I was flat chested. The voice of my first heartbreak who told me he didn’t care… “enough.”

The voices that came from TV, from friends, from strangers, from boyfriends, from magazines, from everywhere, that called me fat, too smart, not smart enough, too emotional,  or not emotional enough. Those same voices  told me to be alluring, but not too alluring, to be modest, but not frumpy. And there was this voice: “Do your best – but don’t draw too much attention to yourself.”

Sometimes the voice came from within, and it said “you aren’t good enough, and you are not worth it.”

There will be many voices like these, little one, and they will be loud, but your daddy and I will be louder. I’m sure of that. I’m sure because your grandparents raised a strong, self-assured, confident, woman who isn’t afraid to be herself, a woman who loves and fears the Lord, and who desires to be more like Him. And, your Daddy chose your Mommy because of this. And, we will teach you to listen to the Voice that has continued to comfort your Mommy’s soul: The voice of the Lord, the most important voice of all.

I know you will often feel like I don’t understand you, but I know the pressure you will face, as a girl, growing up in an imperfect world. I’ve lived it.  It’s hard, and I get it.

But, remember the voice of truth, sweet girl. It is a blessing to be a woman. You are worth it, and you will always be worth it.

You are beautiful, and, your beauty will not be measured by your looks. Your beauty will be found in your heart, your compassion, your kindness, your desire for justice, and your grace.

You are important – so important that the Creator of the universe is forming you in my womb, at this very moment, choosing the size of your ears, nose, eyes, how many freckles you might have, and every little detail about you. You are fearfully and wonderfully made.

You don’t have to be perfect. All we ask is that you be you. You are allowed to make mistakes. Use those mistakes as learning opportunities. Some of Mommy’s worst mistakes were the moments that changed her for the better. Oh, and Mommy isn’t perfect either. She will make mistakes too. A lot of them.

Don’t be afraid to be strong & stand up for your morals. You will be respected for it.

Remember, your value is not in popularity. Daddy and I want you to be a woman who speaks her mind and clings to her integrity.

So, little girl, my prayer is that you grow up knowing and believing the truth:  You are beautiful. You are important. You are strong. You are loved. You are ours.

We love you Blakely Grace Brasell, even though we don’t even know you yet.

Love, Mommy (and Daddy)

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