The Pink Tutu — Whitney Akin

I’ll never forget the moment we stepped into our temporary room at the Ronald McDonald House and I knew God was holding me tight. The gold-embossed painting of a vintage ballerina that hung so perfectly over the bed was the soul-deep reminder that actually, He had been there all along.

This wasn’t the first time I met God face to face with a pink tutu. Let me explain.

Years earlier, I was walking through our local Target (I was by myself by some miracle that only moms-of-toddlers would understand, am I right?). I was pregnant with my third son, Gavin, who was due in a few months. I had two other boys under three years old, and I was overwhelmed with all things trains, dinosaurs, superheroes, and well, dirt.

Don’t misunderstand – I love my “team blue” sons beyond measure. They truly own my heart. But I desired a daughter in such a deep way. And to make my heart even more complicated, I had seen our daughter many times in my dreams. My husband had too. And she looked the same in both of our dreams. So to say there was tension in both celebrating our three sons and yet waiting for our daughter (and not knowing how many more times I was willing to be pregnant, if I’m being honest!), is an understatement.

So here I was, strolling through Target’s baby section with my torpedo belly and stretchy pants, casually glancing at the oh-so-cute baby girl clothes. That’s when the brightest hot pink tutu I had ever seen seemed to literally jump out at me from its rack. I immediately smiled but my joy was even more quickly erased when the thought, “Don’t fool yourself. You’ll never have a daughter to wear that,” filled my head. I lingered in front of the taunting tulle piece, deciding my next move with serious intention. Almost instinctively, I snatched the skirt from the rack, stomped my foot, and replied under my breath, “Oh yes I will!” I bought the tutu and hung it in my closet as a bold declaration in faith that one day I would hold my baby girl.

Before you fist pump too quickly, the story doesn’t climax there. Because this dramatic fuchsia skirt stayed in my closet – for years. My faith wavered more often than I’d like to admit. Questions like, “Do I not have a daughter because I’m not prepared to raise a girl?” “Do I need to overcome more of my past before I can be trusted to have a daughter?” “Does God really give us the desires of our hearts?”

I wrestled with these questions until the dream of pursuing adoption became crystal clear for our family. More of that story can be found at ashleeilg.com, but we were undeniably called to find the literal ‘daughter from our dreams’ through private adoption. The open doors and miracles along that journey still inspire my faith today. But perhaps one of the most memorable moments when I just knew-that-I-knew-that-I-knew that God sees me, was when we stepped into that room at the Ronald McDonald House.

Hannah had been born the day before and I was in the room to experience her beautiful-but-broken entrance into the world. She was perfect in every way – from her strawberry blond hair to her chubby little toes. But as is common in adoption journeys, she also arrived with some health surprises. And because we were not yet legally her decision makers, she had an extended stay in the NICU.

It’s still hard to put this experience into words. We were both celebrating our answered prayer and dream come true, while desperately pleading that God make this unexpected struggle just go away. As if He needed to prove His faithfulness one more time.

We were weary both physically and spiritually as we opened the door to that room. Fighting the battle in my mind and standing against the too-familiar threats of, “You’re not equipped to raise this daughter,” and “You’re not really her mom,” were wreaking havoc on my peace in full force.

So when we swung the door open and my first view was of the ballerina twirling in a pink tutu, I just knew. He was there. And He had been there all along. He saw me. And He walked ahead of me preparing a place for me to lay my head and my heart. He knew my hopes and He knew my fears.

Just like He promises us in Psalm 121:7-8, “The Lord will keep you from all harm – He will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.” (NIV)

In that moment and in the days ahead, I walked with a renewed peace and confidence that could not be shaken. Hannah came home a few days later and every promise was sealed. Her life as our daughter was only just beginning for us, and she has added a bold splash of pink to our primarily blue family. But even more apparent was the truth that God has planned a (very) bright, sparkling, hot pink purpose for her life since well, forever. And I am honored to be entrusted with the mighty call to be her Mom.