(If you haven’t already, please read the prologue to this story here.)
I was not the girl who always dreamed of being a mommy.
But something broke loose inside of me when my first nephew was born.
Although I never would have admitted it in so many words, before him my heart believed that love, though big, was finite. That to love one person more, I had to love someone else less.
I could love, I reasoned, but I’d better keep a little in reserve—to make sure I had enough for the ones that really mattered.
It sounds crazy to me now, but it’s true.
And then I laid my eyes on this beautiful miracle baby, and I knew immediately that I had been wrong all along. In that moment, I loved more than I ever had before. No rationing, no readjusting—my heart just stretched out enough to make room for this new little person.
That night, I wrote this in my journal: “Even as I write these words, my heart is full with love for (my nephew), but broken for the many, many babies around the world who don’t know every single day that they are loved. Would you hold them too, Jesus? And would you please allow me, in some way, to hold them—to love them?”
I didn’t know it then, but on the day that I realized that my capacity for love could grow, I was praying for my daughter.