When I was about 14 years old, I started to feel angry about what feminism was doing to society. I dreamed of being a mother—specifically, a mother to seven daughters. When people asked me what I wanted to become, I would proudly say, “A mom and an artist.” Their reactions were always dismissive, as though they couldn’t decide which dream was worse, so they trashed them both.

But I didn’t let that stop me. I wanted to create a magical home for my children. As a child, I dreamed of living in a big Victorian house filled with treasures and souvenirs from all over the world. I imagined traveling with my daughters, teaching them to be great artists. I pictured a house full of pets, a kitchen filled with the smells of food from every culture, and a life brimming with creativity and adventure.

I always envisioned my daughters as teenagers who were smart, confident, industrious, and, most importantly, deeply in love with each other as sisters. When people told me it would be a shame to bring children into such a dark world, I would reply with conviction, “My children will be the ones to light up the world.”

I fought for that dream. I read pioneer love stories and Amish romances that inspired me to make everything from scratch and to create beauty everywhere I could. My roots gave me strength—my mother was a successful artist, her mother was the first female civil engineer in California, and her mother was one of the founders of the Humane Society. My great-great-grandmother left Bohemia at 19 to build a life for herself in New York City. Many of my ancestors were outliers, and I’ve since learned that several of them probably had traits of Asperger’s. They taught me resilience, optimism, and how to think differently.

These women inspired me to dream big. Despite their accomplishments, they always put family first. My grandmother adored Ronald Reagan, and even though I come from a line of intelligent, powerful women, they held traditional values, believed in their daughters, and cherished family. I wanted to pass that on. A daughter is your legacy—and I wanted seven.

As I watched feminism take root in my generation, I saw it corrupt many of my friends. They believed they couldn’t live fulfilling lives if they were “slaves” to children. But I’m so thankful I never bought into those lies. By the time I was 35, I was living my dream—I had seven daughters! And I didn’t stop there.

Motherhood is such a beautiful, life-giving gift, and I believe we need to encourage our daughters to embrace their own unique gifts, talents, purpose, and the joy of being mothers too.

If you are dreaming of forging a legacy of strength in your daughter, this is a valuable tool: