For a long time I thought I loved our kids more than my husband did. I came to this conclusion because he didn’t hurt like I did when the kids had a hard time. Their struggles bothered me a lot more than they bothered him. I hated “kid-pain.” I wanted to fix it. I wanted to fix it right away. My husband seemed much more composed. He was quite willing to let the kids work things through. To me, loving a kid meant stopping their pain. To him, loving a kid meant doing whatever would help them mature. I thought him insensitive.

If my husband loved our kids as much as I did, wouldn’t their pain tear at his heart the way it tore at mine? Maybe. But maybe not.

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