how i can tell it is good love

(another sappy parenting blog post.)

Okay, let's see if we can write one of these without Zeke in my lap- I'm not sure if that'll work, but I suppose it's worth a try.  (Zeke and Rachael are in a little workshop about stretches that are good for folks with new babies at the center of healthy motherhood, so I have a minute to sit and write.)

So, when Zeke was first born, it was a little overwhelming to love him so much.  I feel like it's still stunning, and still a really profound and big love, but maybe it's getting a bit less overwhelming?  It's a bit like how grief gets less overwhelming as you get farther out, as you live with it and sleep and eat and breathe with it- it's just a thing about my life these days, and I am learning how to be in the world with this much love.

Sometimes theologians and preacher types are into talking about different kinds of loves.  (I'm a little bit suspicious of this project, but that's another blog post.)  And so I remember in the first few days thinking about what to do with this Zeke-love, how to wrangle it and what I thought about it.

And what I was noticing is that it kept making me love everybody more.  I trust that. 

I think I already wrote about how, early on, I was spending some time each day on facebook.  And it turns out that part of that for me was wanting to see some people and love them (and doing it without leaving our hospital-room-cocoon!)  I wanted to heart all the posts.  I wanted to post stupid encouraging comments when people were having a bad day, I wanted to squee over people's first day of school photos.  It's like I had so much love for Zeke (and for Rachael too) that it just bubbled up over the top of the pot of my heart and spilled over.  And I needed to deploy it somewhere or else I wouldn't even be able to sleep.

What a curious condition.  May it continue.