I do entire loads of pink laundry. And not because I accidentally got a red shirt in with my whites. It’s ironic since I was never a “pink” person before kids. Now, I love it. I even caved last year and painted the girls’ bathroom the palest shade of coral-pink, the color of ballet slippers.
We have been asked (Matt especially) if we were disappointed when we had a third girl. We stare dumbfounded at these people and think to ourselves, “You obviously don’t know our girls.” Every single time Matt has brought a pink shirt to the hospital to wear home because he just “knew” we were having a girl. And every time he has been right.
So, girls, here’s what I want you to know. We wanted you. Your daddy wanted you. I wanted you. We were over-the-moon-squeal-with-excitement-cry-tears-of-joy happy when we heard “It’s a girl!” each time. There isn’t a day that goes by that we don’t smile because God has entrusted us with three daughters. We pray you’ll be best friends and trusted confidantes. We pray specific prayers for each of you based on the gifts we see in you, but we pray for all of you that you’ll love God with your whole heart and that you’ll serve Him with your whole life. (We also pray you’ll want to spend every holiday–including Groundhog Day and Arbor Day–with us once you’re grown, but we’ll try to be understanding if that doesn’t happen.)
I won’t lie. It’s somewhat daunting to think of raising three daughters because it means I must model for you what it looks like to be brave and trusting, gentle and strong, vulnerable and courageous. That is not an easy calling, and I will certainly continue to mess it up. But I promise you I will give my whole life to loving God and loving my husband so fiercely that you might one day be compelled to do the same. I hope you see in me many traits you want to emulate. I know you’ll see some you’d rather not. But more than anything I hope you see love. Lots and lots of love.
I love you each, and I love you together–my three pink musketeers.