When my son was first born, even during the first couple years of his life, I would find myself wondering how I could ever have another child. It was not simply a matter of trying to handle two rugrats--though that still crosses my mind, but more a matter of "How could I love another baby as much as I loved the little guy in my arms?" I knew that I wanted another kid, but I couldn't help worrying.
And then something changed along the way during the last school year. I can't quite explain it, but suddenly I knew things were different. Sure, I wonder how I will manage with two kids clamoring for my attention, but I don't worry about finding the love.
When I wrapped my son in his towel after his bath this evening and enfolded him in my embrace, hugged him tight and said, "I love you so much," I could feel the love just bursting forth. And the thought running through my mind was, "I need another child to share this with."