The only regret my father ever admitted to in his conscious state was that he wish he had more kids and he wish he had started earlier. Of course, he didn’t have to actually birth the kids, he was responsible for providing for them. I’m lucky he was a good provider.
Now that I have kids of my own, I better understand his sentiment. My youngest is still too young to play, but when I see the way that he looks at his brother, it’s incredibly beautiful. This morning, I’m fast forwarding my mind two years to when my boys are old enough to really play with each other and I see the chaotic mornings and crazy fun play time. The awesome/scary thing is, I also envision myself being pregnant.
I am really floored at how overwhelmed I am by the love of my boys for each other. It was altogether unexpected. When you are pregnant, everyone tells you how much you are going to love your kids and how you never knew a love like it before, but nobody prepared me for loving their love for each other even more. It makes me want to have even more kids and I feel more connected to my father and how he felt about us.
And on a grander scale, I feel like it connects me more with my religion. I can see why some Orthodox have 8 under 10 and why “Be fruitful and multiply” is a mitzvah. So my thought for today is, if you have kids, have two. At least. Their love will last a lifetime and endure beyond your years.
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