The Kind of Love That Fills Your Veins: A Mother’s Journey

Motherhood is a love that consumes you — completely, deeply, and endlessly.

I’ve spent nights, if not days, just watching Rudra sleep. Putting him to bed, watching him roll over, waking up just minutes after I doze off… only to get another glimpse of him. To most people, I might sound obsessed — and maybe I am, a little. But really, I’m just in awe. Everything about him is so tiny, so beautiful, so perfect.

I love being a mom — something I never imagined saying. Sure, I’m tired most days. Tired of shouting, chasing after him, preparing his meals, changing diapers on repeat. But I love the chaos. My day is filled with the sweet symphony of things crashing around the house. And when he runs toward me, my heart swells — with joy and panic — because he might run into something on the way. Speed, you see.

One of my favorite moments is when he rubs his eyes and looks for me. That look — that quiet need — makes me feel like his safe place. Holding him close, peppering his forehead with kisses before sleep takes over (with zero credit to my lullabies) is my ultimate cure for fatigue. Every night I rock him to sleep, I whisper, What a miracle. And I feel incredibly blessed. These sleepless nights never feel lonely. Not because I finally get a break — but because I get to love him even more.

Rocking Ru to sleep at 4000ft above sea level

Yes, rocking a toddler to sleep is satisfying and absolutely back-breaking. I wouldn’t recommend doing it seven days in a row. But sometimes, he just needs his mama — and that’s enough for me.

It’s been nearly a year and a half, and I still feel the same wonder I did the first night I put him to bed. The love has only grown. And recently, I had a realization.

I’ve always had a lot of love to give. It came out in different forms — being obedient, going out of my way for friends, falling deeply in love, crying over small things. But it was often misunderstood: too emotional, overbearing, thinking too much, high maintenance… who asked you to care so much?

As a young girl, I didn’t know how to channel it. Sometimes, I gave my love to the wrong places — and I have no regrets. But now, holding a baby in my arms, I know this is what my “too emotional” heart was made for. This love too comes with a caveat: give, and expect nothing in return.

The word is: Unconditional.

That’s where I am now. I can pour all my love into Ru — the kind of love people said was “too much” — and he’ll still want more. I can give from an empty cup and somehow still refill it. Because that’s what motherhood is.

Yes, they say this intensity fades. Life takes over, and love changes shape. But I’ll always be that hopeless romantic — the one who loves deeply, fiercely, inexplicably. The kind of love that fills not just my heart, but rushes through every vein. Joy, fear, pride, and overwhelming emotion — the kind of love that makes you pause and take a deep breath. That’s me. Always feeling deeply.

In the long run, I want Ru to always feel this love. The kind that helps him see the world through kinder eyes. The kind that becomes the background score of his life — a constant, even when he’s not listening.

And maybe, just maybe, this will be my reward. For being “too emotional.”

Because son, you are etched into every part of me — a scar, and a sigh of relief.

Love,

June