Will You Love Me?

I have never really suffered unrequited love.

I was not prone to crushes in my adolescence. I was never the girl pining away for some guy in class, or nursing a broken heart.

My parents are still married today, and I don’t recall feeling, for even a single moment, anything but love and acceptance from them. I mean, I was a teenager like most teenagers, and was probably convinced they hated me at some point … but not really.

I have been married for seven years to a wonderful, supportive, passionate, affectionate man.

I have never loved someone and had to wonder if he (or she) loved me back. (And I realize that is an immeasurable blessing.)

But early in the mornings, as Husband gently closes the door behind him and the sun starts to paint the sky blue between the bedroom blinds, I watch my little man sleep, inches from my face, and I whisper, “Do you love me? Will you love me?” 

Because I am not so naive to think he really loves me right now. He recognizes my voice and the smell of my skin. As his eyesight improves, he recognizes my face, maybe. He smiles at me, and lately he calms down in my arms, but that’s not love.

And I know he will never love me as much as I love him. He will never even understand this love until he has his own perfect baby snoring tiny snores next to him.

But still, I slide him a little closer and kiss his tiny cheek and hold my breath as I pray that I can earn his love. I used to want so much – success, ministry, knowledge, passport visas. I still want those things, but over the last few weeks they have fallen lower and lower in my estimation. I still want those things, but in just a few short weeks they have come to seem so trite.

I want him to smile at me because he enjoys my company. I want him to curl up on my lap because he knows he’s safe in my arms, and I want him to kiss me goodnight still believing he’ll never like any girl as much as Mommy. I want him to appear in the bedroom door once in a while to ask if he can sleep with us. I want him to tell me about his problems and trust my advice. I want him to think that my cookies are the best ever, that my singing voice is lovely, and that our family is the happiest on earth.

I still want those other things – security, health and strength, an English bulldog – but I would gladly forsake them all if I could somehow just ensure that he will love me.