A Different Kind of True Love

Rain is spattering the window pane and we are the only two awake.  He's in my arms and together we sway and watch the rain drum down on the heads of the Black Eyed Susans out in the yard.  Chest to chest, he sighs his wee baby sigh and yawns a wee baby yawn before snuggling deeper, his little head just under my chin: a perfect fit.

I catch a glimpse of our shadow against the wall, how tall and straight I am, and that tiny bundle in my arms a whole different person.  And I know how this goes, that this is a future man in my arms, a man who will ultimately leave me for the arms of another.  A man who I will never stop loving.  A different kind of true love.

Falling in love with my husband was beautiful magic, but often is more of a choice.  This love, this Mama-baby bond, this is different.  It is inescapable.  I couldn't stop myself if I tried.


Never did I understand how my parents felt about me until I had babies.  Or how God feels about me, for that matter.  And now that I know, it absolutely blows my mind.

Its not something that is easily explained to anyone who has not experienced it, how your entire world, priorities, desires and goals can change in an instant, prompted by the arrival of one red-faced, 9 pound wonder.

All I know is I have never seen anything so marvelous as your dear little hand clasping mine, your eyes blinking sleepily.  That involuntary newborn smile, toothless, or the gentle way your chubby cheek curves to
cup the side of your face.

If I could, I would take this moment, this precious moment with you and tie it up in a box to take out and hold when, someday, you leave me behind.

Instead, I'll write you a love letter, because that is what you do when you are in love.