I love you, but…

It’s late on a Sunday afternoon and I have a rare hour when no one is requiring anything of me. My son naps in his grandpa’s arms, my daughter is wrapped up with her Omi, and I’m not at home being taunted by laundry or dishes. I should absolutely be napping, too. Instead, I’m pondering a recent moment in our home.

Some of you remember (or are also living) the season of having both a newborn and a toddler. We live in a house of fluids! For me, there is no day and night - I live in a continuous “day,” but half of it is in the dark. So when I am awake, feeding the baby at 6 a.m., it doesn’t mean I have woken from a night of slumber and am starting my day, it just means she’s awake and so am I. For my toddler though, morning is when he wakes from 10 hours in dreamland and runs into our room searching for me and his morning snuggle. It is devastating and unacceptable to him if he finds me awake with his new sister and unavailable to him. This happens often, and the other day, I heard myself say to him, “I love you, son, but your sister needs to be fed.”

And then I immediately had to repent.

I love you, but.

What? There’s not but to my love for my boy!

The other day my wise sister-in-law talked about her own experience with adding each child to their family. Love always multiples, she said, you always have enough love. But YOU don’t multiple. There is only so much of you to be shared around.

So when I said, I love you, but…

What exactly did I mean?

I can’t wait to cuddle you too, son, but right now my arms are full.

I’d love to cuddle you now, but we have to wait until your sister has finished drinking.

I want to feed her and cuddle you, but I simply cannot do both at the same time.

The issue at hand is my inability to nurse a baby and snuggle a toddler simultaneously.

“I love you, but” tells him the issue is a limit to my love. Really though, the only limit is in me.

And I have discovered it’s okay to communicate this to him - more than okay - it’s imperative. Sure, he may not understand the nuances of all I am saying, but he also understands more than I credit to him.

A cuddle in the morning is an expression - an experience of love - and it hurts his little heart when it’s postponed. We all know that feeling, even as adults. But we also understand a postponed experience of love does not equal an absence of love. And my boy will learn to understands that, too - that is, unless I tell him otherwise.

The power I have is profound in this simple, often-repeating scenario. I am teaching him what it means when he can’t have what he wants and needs from me in the exact moment he asks for it.

And my son, believe me, it doesn’t have a thing to do with the unconditional, overflowing, limitless love I have for you!

This season of transition is behemoth for us all. The family we were, my sweet son - the three cords we have been - tightly woven together, have embraced our fourth. And oh, is she lovely! I know you love her, too. You don’t know it now, but the two of you will find your own love, precious and strong, that will outlive me.

But as we fumble along, in this sleepless, exhausting, messy, wonderful season, I will do my best to convey the truth: I have limits, but my love absolutely does not.

And oh, by the way, let me point you back to your Heavenly Father, who loves you without limits AND is Himself, without limits. His lap fits us all, all the time.

So let’s just plan on meeting there.