During the recent birth of our son, my in-laws saved the day by looking after our daughter Squish while my wife and I were at the hospital.

When they came to visit, with Squish in tow, I saw my daughter in a brand new light. She looked bigger, older, and more mature than I remembered her, though we’d only been apart for a bit over a day.

In that moment, a brand new love swept over me for Squish. It was something I didn’t see coming. One would assume the birth of a new child would take the focus away from other loves. Instead, I was filled with love for my new son, and my love for my firstborn increased, too.

Instead of dividing my love, the arrival of our newest family member multiplied it.

Infinite

I have often heard it suggested that the more children you have, the thinner your love will be spread between them. However, the myth of divided love rests on a false assumption about the nature of love.

Love is not a finite resource like wheat or electricity or coal. Love is infinite. A better analogy from the natural world is that of fire. Using one candle to light another doesn’t diminish the flame of the first.

Just as fire can be multiplied without depleting the source, so it is with love. In fact, not only is love a multipliable resource — it is a multiplying force. Such is the beautiful arithmetic of parenthood. Expanding your family expands your heart.

Reflecting on that experience at the hospital, I was reminded of a well-known C. S. Lewis quote from his book, The Four Loves.

In each of my friends there is something that only some other friend can fully bring out. By myself, I am not large enough to call the whole man into activity; I want other lights than my own to show all his facets.

Lewis wrote these words after the death of his friend Charles Williams. He realised that he not only lost Charles, but also the way Charles made another friend — J.R.R. Tolkien — laugh in a way no one else could.

C.S. Lewis’s insight is intuitively true. Knowing someone in a group setting actually reveals more of them, not less.

This is true not just of friendship groups, but families as well. Each child brings out something unique in their siblings and parents. A second child doesn’t take away from your love for the first, but adds to the richness of the family dynamic.

Growth

Before our son was born, my wife expressed grief at the fact we would no longer be just a family of three. In particular, she worried she would miss the one-on-one time she was so used to with Squish.

While there have been adjustments to make as a family of four, the truth is that both of us have seen Squish in a new light. We are more adoring of her now rather than less. Seeing her kiss and cuddle and adore her younger brother melts our hearts. This is an aspect of her personality that was unseen and untapped before our son was born. Since his arrival, we know more about Squish and our love for her has grown.

Granted — we grew our family from three to four, not eight to nine or 16 to 17. I imagine there are some limits to the beautiful arithmetic of parenthood, and I can only speak from my own limited experience.

But most families these days are small. In Australia, the average birth rate is as low as 1.5 children per woman. If anything, people need encouragement to have bigger families, not smaller.

If that’s you — if you are hesitant about growing your family for fear your love will be divided, I believe your fear is misplaced.

Like me, I think you’ll find that the arrival of another child will mean more love to go around, not less. Such is the nature of love.

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Image courtesy of Pexels.