My newborn son was finally asleep in my arms. I crept up the stairs, keeping my arms absolutely still so as not to wake him, and painstakingly lowered him into his crib. “Good night, baby Will,” I whispered. “I love you.” And I tiptoed across the hall to my own bed, ready to submit to sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
But an unwelcome thought hit me as I got in bed: “Maybe if I keep saying I love him, I actually will.”
I was less than a month into motherhood. I was tired, anxious, lonely, overwhelmed. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was suffering from postpartum depression (that’s a story for another post). And I had yet to feel what everyone told me I would: that rush of overwhelming love for the tiny person my husband and I had created. I was prepared to be moved to tears by it, to spend hours staring into his eyes, to marvel at his every movement. But it hadn’t happened.
I didn’t feel love for my baby, yet. But here’s what I know now: I did, in fact, love him. I loved him every time I got up to care for him in the night, every time I picked him up when he cried, every time I held him close and sang to him. I didn’t feel love yet, but I did love him. Because love, it turns out, is a verb. Love requires action, not just feeling.
High School Lessons
I have my high school religion teacher to thank for this insight. (And by the way, this predated the John Mayer song.) Like most important life lessons, it didn’t sink in at the time. He was a bespectacled, bearded stoner (or so the story went) who punctuated his classroom lectures with odd … pauses and lots of … um … filler words. And so we didn’t take him very seriously, especially because he was a single man telling a bunch of hormone-crazed 16-year-olds about chastity and marriage.
“Love is not an emotion,” he told us. And we responded with indignation: Of course it is! What are you talking about? But he persisted: “It’s not an emotion. It’s an action.” It made no sense to us, of course. We were teenagers, full of swelling highs and plummeting lows. We had no idea about the small acts of love that strengthen a marriage, that bind parents and children together, that keep best friends connected across several states.
We had no idea then, but I know now. I know that the little things are actually the biggest things: keeping vanilla candles in the house because my husband likes the scent; finding the exact kind of yogurt my picky preschooler likes; sending a friend flowers when she gets a new job. These are the ways I say “I love you,” and they speak louder than any words of emotion could.
Be an Active Valentine
So what does this mean on Valentine’s Day, the day when we are supposed to celebrate the feeling of love? Well, for me, it’s simple: Don’t do that. Don’t make today all about the feelings of love. Make it instead about the actions of love — the things that keep our relationships strong. The little acts of service, the words of support, the heartfelt gifts that show you know this person as well as you know yourself.
Today I’ll tell my husband and son that I love them. I’ll feel love for them, and I’ll feel thankful for their love for me. But more importantly, I’ll live out my love for them. I’ll do the laundry and I’ll make cookies with my son (soft chocolate chip, his favorite) and I’ll finally deal with that stack of magazines that’s been driving my husband nuts. And I’ll accept their love for me: the hugs and kisses; the turned-down bed at night; the cup of tea made weak and sweet, just how I like it.
Love Tiptoes In
I never did experience that life-changing “I love my baby!” moment. But slowly, the rosy glow of love crept in, like a sunrise peeking through the curtains. And eventually I knew — I felt — that I did love my baby.
I still tiptoe into my son’s room before I go to bed. I gently kiss his soft cheek, and I whisper, “Good night, Will. I love you.” But those feelings of love wouldn’t have been possible without those early actions of love: the late-night feelings, the cuddles, the gentle songs.
Love is a verb. I know this now. Wonder what other life lessons I should have learned in high school?
Do you agree with this mama’s take on love? Share your thoughts in the comments.
