In light of the recent arrival of my second grandbaby, Megan's second son, I thought I'd republish this post I wrote nearly a year before Mac was seriously considered. As I watch Megan care for and cuddle her precious Baby Mac (that's him below, cooing), it's clear my advice to her stood firm and that her heart did indeed grow on.

Hearts grow on (originally published August 3, 2009)

After Megan read my post on GRAND magazine, the one featuring a fake cover-model Bubby, we had yet another discussion of how friggin' cute that boy is. Megan had been deeply concerned during her pregnancy that her newborn would be cursed with a freakishly oversized nose since she and Preston have, in her mind, fairly prominant schnozzes. (She's exaggerating; their noses look pretty normal to me.) The many ultrasounds Megan had during the pregnancy -- ultrasounds totally unrelated to the nose worries -- seemed to only confirm her fears. So when Bubby came out marvelously perfect, his perfection became a continual source of amazement for her.

In our most recent discussion, Megan commented on how Baby #2, planned for sometime in the next year or so, has a lot to live up to and better arrive pretty darn wonderful. It goes back to many of our previous discussions regarding her concerns that she just doesn't know how she'll love another child as much as she loves Bubby. How can she, she wonders, when her heart just explodes with the pure love and joy she feels for what has become the love of her life? (Sorry, Preston.)

I remember thinking the same thing when I learned I was pregnant with my second child -- the child who turned out to be Megan. I loved my little Brianna, my #1 baby,  with every fiber of my being and I worried I might be neglectful of Baby #2 because he/she could never live up to the incredible little bundle of joy named Brianna. Didn't happen, though. Megan was just as amazing as Brianna, but in, thankfully, very different ways. I loved them both beyond words.

When Baby #3 made her presence known, I was certain it couldn't possibly happen again. That there's no way in my dysfunctional heart, mind and soul, that I really could be the kind of person who would love and adore yet another little one -- especially a little one guaranteed to throw off the balance of the home and life Jim and I had created. We were a family of two babies and two parents, each parent having two hands so we could manage the girls on our own, when necessary. There were four chairs to our little table that perfectly seated all of us. Our trusty Ford Maverick had just enough room in the back for two car seats. How in the world would I equally love Baby #3 when she was discombobulating the domestic scene we'd thus created?

But three is a charm. Unbelievably, I loved Andrea (my little Andie) as much as I did Megan and Brianna. And I still do. All three of my precious babies continue to be lovely and amazing in ways that are so very different from one another, yet very much the same in my heart. I honestly love each one more than anything else in the world. Seems impossible, but it's true.

So, Megan, you won't love Bubby more than the next baby, or the next one ... or even the next one, if you and Preston happen to be that crazy blessed. Like your mom, you'll just get a bigger table and you'll buy a bigger car. All the while, your heart will become bigger and bigger, making it possible to love each one equally, each for very different reasons.

And you'll quickly learn that, despite all the bunk in romance novels and chick flicks, there's more than just one love of your life. Especially when you're a mom.

Today's question:

One of the more valuable bits of advice from my mother was __________.