Adoption has made such a difference in our lives. The people who's stories we have gotten to hear that we might have missed have blessed us in so many ways. Our friends and family who have opened their arms and hearts for our child have never ceased to amaze us. We are reminded how great our God is every single day.
Even in the heart of our happiness when people read my blog, total strangers who take one excerpt and think they know me and then bash me on wanting to raise a daughter. Informing me that she may not like bows and tea parties and frilly things. I just listen. For in my head, I hear my mother laughing at them because I totally know about tomboys. I was one. I am fully aware that our daughter may not like dolls. That she may prefer her brother's army men. That she may not want a tea party (although I did pay tea parties many times with my boy children). And that she may not like dresses or girly things. That's ok with me.
I wanted the experience of raising a daughter. In whatever package she came in. Just the same as my boys. My children have come to me to be unfolded, not molded. But, as with my boys, I will dress her in frilly things until she says no. I will put a bow on her head until she says stop. Just like I dressed my little guys in smocked clothes and john boy jumpers until the ease of using the potty became more important.
I am not a fool to think that Elliana will be this super girl. I am not a fool to think that she will never get dirty, never run through my house, never shout or burp louder than her brothers. That she will not dig up worms, enjoy to go fishing, or even like boys. I will love her no matter what. That is the joy in parenting, for us. We receive these little blessings from heaven and we nurture and love them until God calls us or them home.
But for now, I admit, I am loving the frills. The pink. The flowers. The chandelier in her room (which is painted green by the way, not pink). I am enjoying putting bows on her that are bigger than her head. Just as I enjoy nursing her, snuggling her, reading to her, rocking her, holding her close to my heart, and telling her stories of the night I met her in a hospital far away from home.
For almost two months I have stared at this face that is embedded in my heart. I have watched her brothers feed her. I have watched her nap on the couch snuggled up in her father's arms. I have seen her Aunt kiss her tiny face and count her precious toes. I have watched as each morning three boys trapse in our bedroom to seek our her smiles. To wish her good morning. To hug her goodnight. To remember her birthmother and family in their prayers.
