Every parent feels a deep love for their children. We often express it to one another, saying things like, “I love my kids.” We tell our little ones, “I love you to the moon and back,” or “I love you more than anything in the world.” We even read them heartwarming books like Love You Forever, On the Day You Were Born, and Mama, Do You Love Me?
We utter the word “love” repeatedly; it’s a simple four-letter word, a single syllable. I love you, sweetheart. But what we often overlook is the reality that lies beneath that word. We tend to focus on the joyful moments—the rainbows and sunshine of love, the exhilarating feeling of watching your child ride a bike for the first time. This is the image of love portrayed in movies and magazines, where love is treated as a noun.
However, love is not merely a noun; love is a verb.
Love is enduring nine months of discomfort, battling nausea, and sleepless nights. It’s the linea nigra and hours of labor that test your limits. Love is the desperation for an epidural and hearing, “Just a little while longer.” It’s the effort of bringing a slippery newborn to your breast when nothing seems to align.
Love is visible on your body: the stretch marks, the extra pounds, the signs of sacrifice. Love means accepting those changes without a second thought.
Love is waking up repeatedly to soothe a crying baby, even when you feel completely lost. It’s the determination to rise from your warm bed, picking up your little one, and gently cooing, “Hi, baby,” no matter how frustrated you might feel. Love is rocking, bouncing, feeding, and patting while fighting back tears of exhaustion.
Love is the messy hair you wear the next day after a sleepless night.
Love is standing in a store, frozen, while your toddler has a meltdown over a toy—an outburst that draws judgment from onlookers. You leave behind your cart full of groceries, navigating your child’s tantrum as you retreat to the car.
Love is cleaning sand from your child’s eyes, urging them to blink, despite their struggles. It’s knowing that your other child caused the mishap, but understanding that they never meant any harm.
Love is applying a Band-Aid to a scrape that doesn’t exist—two, maybe three Band-Aids just to be safe.
Love is cooking dinner yet again, knowing full well that your kids will likely turn their noses up at it. You mix ingredients with the hope that this time will be different, even as you brace for disappointment.
Love is reading the same story, like Hop on Pop, until it’s etched in your memory, and then reading it once more just to see that delighted smile.
Love is sacrificing your screen time for shows like Daniel Tiger and Wild Kratts, and yes, even Caillou.
Love means assembling an Ikea bed with confusing instructions, all in time for your child to come home and find it ready.
Love is shouting reminders to brush teeth, waiting impatiently, and eventually guiding each child to the bathroom. It’s preparing their toothbrushes while they wonder if they’re done yet, even when the brush lights up at the finish line.
Love is methodically preparing peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, ensuring that every step is executed just right, the way your kids prefer it.
Love is wrestling with a car seat installation and repeatedly reminding your child to climb in, all while making sure every strap is secure.
Ultimately, love is an action. It’s about doing what needs to be done, even when you’re exhausted, unkempt, and a bit overwhelmed. Love is hard work, but it’s always worth it.
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In summary, love is an active commitment that encompasses all the little things we do daily for our children. It’s not just a feeling but a series of actions that demonstrate our devotion.