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The ultrasound technician delivered the news with zero enthusiasm, almost as if she’d done this ten times already today.

My world stopped.

It’s a girl?

I said those three simple words, again and again; the reality sinking in with each repetition.

It’s a girl. It’s a girl. It’s a girl.


It’s a girl, and her name is Penelope!

It’s another girl, and her name is Georgia!

Within two years I became a mother to two girls. My world was forever changed. I was forever changed.

Brene Brown says that “vulnerability is the cornerstone of confidence.” It has taken years of counselling to fully comprehend the message of vulnerability and empowerment, but not even the best counselling could teach me the way that mothering my daughters has.

It’s a girl.

I grew up in a single parent family, an only child with a complicated history that learned to cope through numbing and self-destructive behavior. As a teen I was a wild child, never understanding that I had the right to say “no,” and that physical touch didn’t equal intimacy or love. I was a broken and confused girl who stumbled into an amazing marriage to a man who valued me more than I valued myself.

Why then, did those three simple worlds completely rock my world?

It’s a girl.

What was the difference between birthing a boy or a girl? Time and introspection has revealed that I was afraid of little girls, because I was afraid of me.

Mothering my two little girls has forced me to look at my past.

I have knelt down on my knees and looked into the eyes of four-year-old me, acknowledging the deep wounds inflicted, and allowed myself to love the child who was never really given a chance to grow into who she was meant to be.

I’ve sat on the bed of that crying teenage girl, mascara staining her cheeks, and stroked her hair. I’ve whispered in her ear, “It’s not okay, but you will get through this, and you will be stronger for it.”

I have taken soap and water and scrubbed at the words “you are dirty,” tattooed on my little preteen arms, washing away those lies that I once believed.

It’s a girl.

Today I watched as my three-year-old belted out her favourite song (and I know you know it well), “Let it go, Let it go, can’t hold me back anymore”! I smiled as I realize how true those words are for me.

I’ve let it go; everything that has held me back my whole life. I’ve let it all go, and embraced who I was meant to be.

I hold value and I am important. I have so much to say and so much to contribute to this world. I can do anything. I am slowly transforming my mind, dismantling the lies and negativity that held me captive for too long.

It’s a girl.

Those three simple words had the power to set me free from my own fears and my own failures. To embrace the power in what it means to be a girl, and pass that power on to my own children.

In my home my girls are empowered.

They are girls. Hear them roar.

My children are being raised in an environment where they will be taught that they are valuable. They are learning to respect their bodies and use their voices when they are uncomfortable.
They experience unconditional love every single day, and are not shamed when they are disobedient.
They are being taught respect, kindness, and generosity.
They are told, over and over again, that they are capable and worthy of doing whatever they want.

I am also learning that my daughters have their own journey.
They will make mistakes.

They will have their moments of mascara stained cheeks, and I will be there, to pull back their hair and let them know it is okay.

I never knew what a gift it was: to be a girl, to be given the opportunity to mother girls, and to have the choice to be the woman I was always meant to be.

feature image via jamesAnn Photography

Brianna Bell

Brianna Bell is a wife, mother, and freelance writer specializing in articles on parenting and family. She can be found elbows deep in sudsy dirty dish water, on the floor playing human jungle gym, or with her game face on typing up her newest article. You can find her on Facebook at

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