Find all of my 31 Moments of Motherhood posts here.
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[Lights come up on a pregnant woman holding her belly with both hands. A chair with a photo album on it and a bassinet sits to the side.]
Me
Being pregnant for the second time was in some ways better…and in other ways worse than the first time around. The belly popped out faster. The Braxton Hicks contractions were harder. The back pain was quicker. But the physical changes were familiar, the hormones easier to spot, and the “been there, done that” feeling was comforting.
[Woman moves to the chair and sits down, picks up the photo album, and starts flipping through the pages.]
Me
But as I thought about all our happy memories of our first child and looked at all the pictures we had taken, I found myself worried.
Petrified, in fact.
How would I…how could I love this second child as much? And what if I didn’t? My heart felt so full, it didn’t seem that there was room for anything else.
[Woman stands up, unstraps belly pillow, and walks over to the bassinet. She picks up a swaddled baby and kisses it on the forehead.]
Me
But then he was born. Fast and furious, in the middle of a snowstorm, placed in my arms in what seemed like minutes after we arrived at the hospital, and I knew.
Suddenly, I knew.
I didn’t need to split my love down the middle – half for one kid, half for another. And when we had our third child, it didn’t mean I had to chop my love in thirds. Instead, my capacity to love multiplied, bubbling up and over the edges of my heart, so that each of our children was loved completely and equally.
It is both the mystery and the blessing, this love. Love without edges, without restraint…and one of the greatest gifts of motherhood.
