As I sat patiently waiting for the meeting to begin, a friend who knows both my children asked, “Which one is your favorite? I mean, I know I’m my mom’s favorite, but every parent has a favorite, right?” His question didn’t surprise me because my children have asked it too. It usually comes after a reprimanding, with the plea, “You love them more than me.” But, it is also something I have thought about in my own family dynamic. Do parents have a favorite? Can you love one child more?

What I found out from my soul searching is that my unconditional love for my children comes from my one singular heart, but branches off in two very different directions. Neither branch stretches further or wraps tighter around one heart over another, it’s just different. Let me explain.

I’ll start with my daughter since she is the oldest. She is the very human that made me into a mother. She is the larger than life personality who reminds me every day of who I could’ve been had I not listened to the voices of the world. Linda Rose is cut from her own cloth and yet somehow resembles me. She is smart, so smart. She is well-spoken and well-thought out. She clearly understands influence and isn’t trying to shape shift for anyone. She is at the cusp of adolescence and pre-teen where the scales could tip in or out of my favor. And, I’ve heard all the stories of girls in their teens. Shit, I tortured my parents. In fact, before my father died I asked him, “You know that prayer you had for me, the one for me to have a daughter just like me when I have kids? Do you think you could take that back?” With all that said, her strong will and laser-like focus are beautiful to love. All of her is beautiful to love. Her sense of humor, her amazing sense of timing with her humor in awkward moments, her tenderness and deep understanding of human nature, and her strength. Her physical and mental strength. When I look at her, I know what parts of me are in her. I know, in my heart, that God shined up all the good stuff that I had tarnished over my years and loving blessed it to her.

And then there is Ryan, my baby, who is not a baby by any means. Built like his father, Ryan is strong and steady. He is loyal and unwavering in his love for his family, and most evidently, me. From the moment he was born, the two of us have been a team. When he was struggling with speaking in his early years, he and I spoke through a combination of hand motions and a language I called, Babynese. Ryan and I have a bond I’ve heard many mothers of sons speak of. It is a love so deep that it goes beyond words. It is unconditional love. It has been a touchstone for me in this world. With Ryan, I hear his thoughts, endless streaming thoughts, dreams of who he will someday be, his far-out imagination and alas, his fears. He shares it all. And believe me, I know how lucky I am to have a boy who is willing to share with his momma. He is so smart, but not in an obvious way, because when I think he is day-dreaming, he’s actually absorbing everything around him. He reads facts for fun and remembers everything. In his life, I’ve see him gain interest in something and then learn the entirety of it. The blessing of him is his sense of right and wrong with fairness for all people, a love for all people. Ryan often holds his hand out to help those around him before he helps himself.

As different as they are from each other, my love for them is the same. It springs from a place of longing to be in their life and wanting to know these humans every step of the way. I love them entirely and without end. And yet, it’s different.

With Linda, I love watching her navigate the world. I love her for who she is.

With Ryan, I love listening to how he sees the world. I love him for how he loves me.