I often find myself at a loss for words when trying to express the immense love I have for my children. If it were something that could be measured, I would undoubtedly assign a number to it. Yet, no sophisticated language has ever surpassed the simplicity of the statement we all made as children: “I love you this much!”
My son, Lucas, is such a delightful kid. He often interrupts my wife and me during our busy moments—whether we’re preparing for bedtime or cooking dinner—to declare, “I love you, Daddy! You’re the best!” or “Mom, I love you more than anything!” Each time he does this, I feel my heart swell. “Oh, Lucas,” I respond, “my love for you is beyond words. You truly are an incredible boy.”
I sometimes wish our language was more expressive. I long for the ability to articulate the whirlwind of emotions that come with parenthood—frustrations, joys, exhaustion, and elation. The moment I fell in love with my child was instantaneous, opening a well of emotions I never knew existed. It flows from me in every conceivable way.
Reflecting on my own childhood love, I realize I never fully grasped its depth until I experienced it through the lens of parenthood. Gazing at my own children, I am filled with awe, and I can almost feel that bond between us as if I could hold it in my hands.
Then there’s my youngest, Oliver. His insatiable curiosity astounds me. He often tries to keep up with his older brother, a dynamic that is distinctly different for a little brother. While his primary focus is on Lucas, it’s the quiet moments that truly capture my heart. When he cuddles close, sharing his thoughts and dreams, telling me how much he loves his family, he builds connections that are nothing short of magical.
Yet, with this newfound love comes an equally profound fear—one that only exists because of the love I feel for my children. The vulnerability that comes with parenthood has made me acutely aware of the potential for tragedy. My heart has cracked open, yet it has also made me hyper-aware of the world around me.
In the early days of parenthood, my wife and I were often paralyzed by the overwhelming fears that accompany being a parent. While everyone eagerly shares tales of sleepless nights and the wonder of babies, they seldom mention the dark thoughts that can creep into your mind—the fears that come with the territory.
I never worried about my own mortality until I recognized how it would impact my children. Now, even the slightest sign of illness in my wife sends me spiraling into worry. If she’s late picking up the kids, my mind races to dark scenarios of accidents or misfortunes. I know it’s irrational, but the love I have for my children brings these fears into sharp focus.
As quickly as those thoughts emerge, they dissipate, and I return to mundane concerns, like whether to use the last of the carrots for dinner or if Oliver will eat the broccoli. I can’t find a word to capture this whirlwind of joy, dread, and the routine of daily life, but surely, there should be one. It’s a universal feeling known only to those who have experienced that transformative moment of falling in love with their child.
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In conclusion, the love we share with our children is profound and complex. It encompasses joy, fear, and the simple beauties of everyday life, creating a bond that is both unshakeable and indescribable.