I used to think I understood love. I adore my partner. We’ve been in this delightful chaos for nearly 11 years. We’ve seen each other at our worst—when we’re sick, hungover, grumpy, sleep-deprived, and let’s not even start on the sweaty moments. We’ve tolerated each other’s quirks and embarrassing habits, yet we still choose each other every single day, even when we’re bickering or testing each other’s patience. We might not agree on everything, but our core values align beautifully. We can make each other laugh until we’re in tears. We cheer each other on in our dreams and do our best to make them a reality. This love is ours, and while it’s not flawless, it’s authentic and grows deeper every day. I know love, and I know how it feels in my very being.
But boy, was I mistaken. That love? It’s wonderful, but it didn’t prepare me for the overwhelming, soul-stirring love I would feel for my child. It’s not that my love for my child is greater; it’s just more intense. Perhaps it’s because I feel an urgent need to shield him from the world’s harsh realities, to safeguard his innocence for as long as possible. He’s so vulnerable in so many ways, and he depends on me to learn and thrive.
Sure, my love for my partner runs deep, but my love for my child? It’s like diving into the ocean of my soul a million times over. Maybe it’s because I carried him inside me and witnessed his very first breath; it feels like he’s a piece of my heart strolling (or crawling) around outside my body. This love is so profound it almost hurts, like my heart might explode from the sheer joy of loving him.
As he grows, I’m rediscovering the world through his innocent eyes. I’m reminded of the beauty and wonder we often overlook. He nudges me to smile at strangers rather than scowl. He’s unlocking a more tender and open side of me, which deepens my love for him.
And let’s be honest, he gazes at me as if I’m the greatest thing since sliced bread. Even when I’m in my pajamas, hair a tangled mess, and morning breath that could knock out a bear, he doesn’t care. He loves our games of peek-a-boo, the giggles from a tickle fight, and those snuggles that make him drift off to sleep. Those moments make me feel like, no matter what else I accomplish in life, I’m nailing this parenting gig.
As we age, love gets complicated. We stress over mortgages, jobs, eating healthy, and getting enough sleep and exercise. Those pressures can wear us down, making us snappy and not our best selves. Often, we take it out on our partners, simply because they’re nearby or they say something that hits a nerve. Romantic love is thrilling, but it can get bogged down by life’s chaos.
But love for my child? Right now, it’s straightforward. I know it will get complicated as he grows and becomes more involved with the world. He’ll argue, he’ll be stubborn, and he’ll misbehave. But for now, it’s mostly uncomplicated. He’s all about hugs, kisses, and fun. He crawls to me the instant he sees me, even after just a short separation. And in those moments, I feel that heart-bursting love again, that fierce instinct to protect him. That feeling will always be there. I’ll forever feel a deep love for him because he’s a delightful blend of me and my partner, the ultimate combination.
Yes, there will come a day when he drives me as bonkers as my partner does. And honestly, that’s a good sign. It means we choose love over everything else, embracing their flaws and quirks. The moment I laid eyes on him, my world flipped upside down in the best way possible. One thing became crystal clear: I was made to love this child. Even when he frustrates or annoys me, my love remains steadfast.
I’ll love this kid with every fiber of my being for as long as I’m able. He’s teaching me, bit by bit, that the most profound love is the unconditional kind that flourishes even when life tries to make it difficult.
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