Sometimes my heart swells so hard, it feels like it will burst. I take a deep breath in and have to hold it until the pinnacle of my joy passes. I love him so much. And every time this burst of joy finds me, I think, “This is what love is. And this delights my heavenly Father who is Love. He gives me the capacity to love this much, while telling me at the same time that His love for us is even greater than this.” It’s enough to make me shed tears. Maybe these movements from intense joy to tears are not so much because of hormones, like everyone tells us, but because of a new acute awareness of life that being a vessel in the giving of life brings.
I love when he grins to the side…just like his Daddy.
I love that I get to absorb every far-off stare, hiccup, and dozy sleep falling. I can’t seem to get enough. I’m thankful there is no log-book of the hours of my day, because I think I would be embarrassed to know how much is spent simply staring.
I love to watch the way that Pace and Mary Aplin can never seem to get enough of him either. They hate how much he sleeps and are eager for him every time he wakes. Last night, Pace asked if she could start praying for another little brother…I told her, “Not quite yet :)”
I love to kiss his face all over…even though it makes him mad.
I love that his cheeks are full and he’s grown a second chin.
I love that my love for him is intensely jealous. My love for my little girls is a non-threatened love–we will belong to each other as mother and daughter our whole lives through. There’s not another bond like that. However, just as my love for Jeremiah is the kind that requires a single-minded devotion, so I know there will be another one day who requires the same kind of devotion from Jay Paul. It wrenches my heart in one moment, but the thought of him going through life without knowing this singular kind of love, wrenches it out the next moment, until I find myself praying–begrudgingly–for that other little life out there–a little lady life–who will one day come and take my place.
Everyone was right when they told me little boys are different. They surely are.