falling in love

The first time I fell in love, it was that crazy, headlong, teenage sort. I remember looking into that boy's eyes and just begging him to see in mine all the over-the-top emotions I had. It was giddy and it was good, and it was young. It lasted a year or two, and we grew apart, which was what was meant to be.

The second time felt very similar. I was still quite young, and we were good for each other. We spoke in superlatives, telling one another that we loved each other more than anything, that this was the best love there could ever be, that we would love each other forever. It wasn't perfect, and it didn't last forever.

The third time I fell in love was a slower process. This person came into my life through what felt like stealth; I hadn't planned on meeting her, and I hadn't foreseen the immensity of the love I'd have. It took me months to get used to the idea of her, and when I finally met her, I felt more of a sense of overwhelming responsibility than anything else. I do remember the moment I began to fall in love, though. She was still incredibly tiny, barely able to hold up her own head. We were with another mother and her baby daughter, who was howling. The Bean was sitting on my lap, in a doll-sized sweater my mom had knit the night she was born, and she turned her face up to me and seemed to ask, "aren't you happy I'm not that baby?" I looked at her, relieved she was so calm, and smiled. I know, kiddo. I know.

The falling in love after that has been a journey. Because I already knew how to love in this new, connected way, I was able to easily fall in love with my second baby. The first moment I looked into her eyes - she was maybe a minute old - I fell deeply in love. This love grows and grows, in ways I hadn't imagined. Every day, these two surprise me, and I love them more for the people they continue to become.

And now, there is a whole new sort of love. Falling in love with a partner, as a grown woman and as a mom, is a completely different experience, one I couldn't have imagined. The superlatives are gone. The urgency has disappeared. It still feels like fireworks and butterflies, but it also feels more solid. I am deeply, and so very happily in love with D. I am prone to grand declarations, but I have learned to curb them. I cannot, in all honesty, tell him that I love him more than anything. That statement is reserved for my children. The best part is that he knows that and is entirely comfortable with it.

My children have taught me that it's possible to keep falling in love, even through the hard parts, perhaps because of the hard parts, to keep falling deeper and deeper in love. To learn more about the other, to grow and to allow to grow, to watch and to respect and to encourage one another through it all. Perhaps that's how love is sustained day after day, year after year: to fall in love today with the person you are today.