I thought I knew love before I had kids. I love my husband - I mean, we’ve been together for 8 years, I’ve gotta love that man. Over the years We’ve seen each other sick, drunk, hungover, exhausted, sweaty, and just down-right stinky. We’ve come to be comfortable with each other’s gross habits and annoying quirks. And somehow, we choose each other everyday. Because even when we feel like we’re at our worst, we are still better together. We make each other laugh until we almost pee our pants. We support each other’s dreams, and do whatever it may take to help make them happen. We chose this love. And of course it isn’t perfect, but it is REAL. It’s something that blossoms every day. So I know love. I know what it feels like in the very depths of my soul and fiber of my being.
But I was wrong. That love was great. But it didn’t prepare me for what came next. It didn’t prepare me for the absolute soul-crushing love I would feel for my children. And I’m not saying that I necessarily love my kids more than my husband, I am saying that I love them more intensely. It may be due to the mama bear in me - the innate desire to to protect them from everything bad in the world, to preserve their innocence for as long as I can, and try my best to help them learn and grow.
So yes, I do love my husband. But my kids? It’s that same love that I feel in the depths of my soul and fiber of my being, but times a million. Maybe it’s because I carried them in my belly, felt every kick and hiccup, and watched them take their first breaths that makes me feel it deeper. Like my heart is walking in halves outside of my body. That makes my heart feel like it could burst at the mere sight of their smiling faces.
Maybe it’s because I can see a whole new world through his eyes. A world that is full of so much wonder, curiosity, and possibilities. Making me realize all of the good that goes overlooked way too often. That makes me smile more. Ultimately bringing out a more loving and vulnerable side of myself. Which makes me love them even more.
Maybe its because they look at me like I am a superhero. Especially on the days that I haven’t showered, hair is a mess, and have worn pajamas all day. Because I’ve played peek-a-boo, cars, dinosaurs, tickled their bellies till they‘ve laughed, or cuddles them until they’ve fallen asleep. In these times, I feel like I’m actually doing something right. I’m loving my kids with everything I got and more.
Maybe it’s because as time goes on, love gets more and more complicated. I had to start keeping things like money, food, sleep, and exercise at the forefront of my mind. All of it wearing me down. Making the worst sides of me come out. Oftentimes, taking it out on my loved ones. So even though the romantic love I have for my husband is absolutely wonderful, it can sometimes be bogged down by all of those outside forces of adulthood.
But my love for my children? It’s much simpler (most of the time). It is full of hugs, cuddles, and kisses. It is all about giggles and making so much fun. It is found in the smile of my daughter when I walk into a room or the call out of “mom” when my toddler sees me. Because I feel it all again - that heart-bursting love. That “I would do absolutely anything for them” feeling. The part that will never waiver. I’ll always protect them. And I’ll always love them because they are the perfect combinations of myself and my husband.
Sure, we’re going to have days where they’ll drive me just as crazy as my husband (and there are already have been some). But that’s a good thing, in my opinion. It means that even though they drive me bonkers, I choose to also love them. Despite any quirks or flaws they may grow to have, I’ll love them. Because from the very moment they came into the world, they turned my world upside down in the best way humanly possible.
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