BY HEATHER MILLER with Triad Moms on Main
I have three amazing daughters. When people find this out, there are a handful of comments that are usually thrown my way. “All girls?!?!” “I bet their dad feels so outnumbered!” “Will you try again for a boy?” “You’re brave!” I find all of these comments to be odd, because when I think about having three girls, I think how lucky I am. My third child was not an attempt at a son, as shocking as that may be. There is not much that fills me with joy the way that raising strong women does. It is curious to me that there is rarely a comment that is geared towards how happy I must be.
My first-born is a cautious soul. She buries herself in books and arts and crafts. She is a kind heart and her brain is nothing short of a sponge. She is also a leader and loves to be in charge. She is not bossy, she is assertive, and it will take her to the moon and back one day. No, I don’t think she likes to “tell her sisters what to do,” I think she knows what she wants and how she wants things done and will use her brain to get it her way. While she has no interest in team sports, it does not mean that she is not a team player, it means she has other interests. This is the child that took six months to even smile back at me after she was born. She has a lot going on in that wonderful brain of hers, back off.
My second child loves life to the fullest. She will jump from telling you all about dinosaurs to watching Cinderella in 10 seconds. She has a dinosaur bedspread, sleeps with a stuffed wolf, thinks Super Heroes are the coolest thing ever, and has a Frozen poster on her wall. She is not the son I never had. She is the amazing daughter that I do have. She likes things. All things. She is a person who likes things, not a “tom-boy.” When asked what I would do if she came to me and said she is a boy, I smile and say loud and proud that I would do nothing, because it isn’t possible for me to love her any more. So shove your labels up your…oops, sorry, this is a family website. You get my drift.
My third is nothing short of a tornado. She runs into a room and leaves, making you wonder what in the hell just happened. She is the baby, and is treated as such. She has more love in her toes than most people do in their whole bodies. Yes, she throws fits, and no, she is not like her sisters. I would not want her to be. She isn’t her sisters; she is her own perfect person. She wears Crocs with all outfits, hats that never match her outfits, and is usually sporting a stamp or seven on her arms. Her hair is always in her face and she hates hair ties. I could make her conform, and maybe that would make everyone else happy. Seems to me, though, that she is already happy, so I have done my job.
With all that is going on in the crazy, wild world of ours, let’s do each other all a favor and keep our labels to ourselves. There are many reasons for the number of children that we each end up with; rather than comment on the reason, let us comment on the joy. See someone with three of the same sex? Wow! She is so lucky that she gets to re-use all of those baby clothes so many times! See someone with one child? How lucky is that kid to not have to share! Imagine if we all just let each other be, just a little more. Wouldn’t that teach our kids to let each other be, just a little more? Maybe that is what will end up making this world a better place.
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