I remember when I was pregnant with our first child, and people would talk about how unprepared I was for the love I would feel when the baby was born. That I would experience a surprise at the depth of love we can feel for another human being. And with my second pregnancy, people would remark how hard it is to imagine having more love within us than we already do but once that second baby is born our love simply expands even more.
But here’s the thing. I didn’t feel that sudden depth of love when my daughter was born. Because I was already so deeply in love with her. I just didn’t know I had a “her” in my belly. And preparing for the birth of our second—we chose to find out the gender this time, and knew we were having a boy—once again, I already knew how much more I could love another human being.
The love that is rooted in our family, that began with just my husband and me, in our union, has continued to multiply and shift and change and grow and be challenged. But there was never any surprise at those big moments. Love was and is always the foundation of our family.
What I was unprepared for, though, and continue to be, are the little things that make my heart burst. The small actions my children do that I feel at the root of my soul.
The day that my three-year-old son (after a particularly tantrum-y morning) came into my room, wrapped his arms around my legs and said, “Mummy, you’re perfect.”
Or coming home from teaching to find the note posted above from my six-year-old daughter on my bedside table.
These are the moments I was unprepared for. The ones that take my breath away. The ones that show me that our capacity to love and be loved has no boundaries. For me, there is no simpler joy (or greater love) than what we find in the little moments.