I always knew my parents loved me, but I didn’t really understand just how much they loved me until this past Jan. 11.
That’s when my husband and I welcomed our new little daughter into this world. Wow. Now I know what love is.
There’s nothing that little girl can do to make me not love her. Even when her shrill cry wakes me up from a dead sleep in the middle of the night, I still find myself smiling at her, and I can’t help but kiss those chubby baby cheeks.
I expected to love my daughter, but I wasn’t quite prepared for the intensity of that love. I get a lump in my throat when I realize my parents love me with that same intensity.
That point hit home for me a few days after our daughter was born. We were still in the hospital and had just been told — for the third day in a row — we wouldn’t be bringing our daughter home that day. I was feeling particularly exhausted and frustrated, so I called my mom. When she answered the phone I said, ‘Hi," and that’s all I needed to say.
"Are you OK? Do you want me to come up there?" she immediately asked.
That’s when I realized that even though I’m 30 years old, I’ll always be Mom’s little girl. Mom could tell her baby was hurting and wanted to make her all better, just like I wanted to make my daughter better.
And just as I began to understand the depth of my parents’ love for me, I also began to realize God loves all of us — his children — with an even stronger, more perfect love.