Exploring the limits of love

Let’s pretend that love is something that we manufacture somewhere […]

During our first pregnancy, I remember worrying that I wouldn’t have enough love for the coming baby. I already loved my wife so much I couldn’t fathom where the love would come from for another family member. I felt like my love gland was already working at maximum capacity. Adding another precious human being to my family might overload my love gland. I was nervous.
Then the baby arrived, and I found that something miraculous happened. Somehow, my love gland found a way to produce more love. I didn’t know this was possible until I tested the limits. I found myself instantly in love with my new little daughter in a way that I had never experienced before, and with no dilution of my love for my wife.
Several months later, we found ourselves surprised by the news that we were pregnant again. Though I had already experienced one increase in production from my love gland, I did not know if it could happen again. Maybe you only get one increase in your life and then you’re on your own after that. I was worried again. How could I love two children as much as I love the one I already have? I was about to find out.
I’m happy to report that my love gland rose to the occasion. In another miraculous event, I found that I could love two children with the passion of a thousand burning suns. But surely this was the upper limit of what the love gland can do. So, we took a break on babies, or so we thought.
Three years later, we discovered we were pregnant with twins. This will surely break my love gland, I thought. Surely, twins will require a special dosage of love, and that on top of all the love I already have. I started asking around about the possibility of getting love transfusions. But alas, it turned out not to be necessary. Yet another miracle occurred, and I was able to love all four children and their mother with more love than I had ever known before. Seriously, though, the love gland can’t handle any more.
Two years later, we are now holding our precious fifth child. Even as I hug him and tickle him, I know without a doubt that I have all the love I need to love everyone in our family well.
Maybe love isn’t a finite resource, as I had originally thought. Maybe it isn’t produced in limited quantities. Maybe its an infinite resource. Maybe it’s more like a muscle that increases in size and strength with more use. Maybe there is no upper limit to how large the muscle can grow and how much love-force it can exert.
Perhaps it’s the wrong question to ask if I’ll be able to love this child. Maybe a better question to ask would be: How can I exercise my love muscles enough to love this child?







