My hand shook as I stared at the faint pink line on the home pregnancy test I was holding.

My eyes widened and my heart rate quickened just as it did the 5 other times I beheld yet another test result that day (just to be sure). I even called my doctor just to confirm that 6 positive home pregnancy tests actually meant I was pregnant. I remember sitting down on the bathroom floor and having a little cry fest party for one, for I knew no other way to handle my sudden elation. There on the bathroom floor, I thanked God over and over for the gift He had given me and my sweet husband (who still didn’t know).

With red lipstick, I wrote “Congratulations You’re a Father” on the bathroom mirror for hubby who would be home any minute for his lunch break. I set up a candlelight lunch on our first date table (the table I begged for from our first-date coffee shop for three years until they finally caved and gave it to me).

(This table was his Christmas gift from me)

When Husband came home, he kissed me while I was stirring our soup, and I, unable to contain my excitement, said, “Hey, guess what! I cleaned the bathroom! It’s sparkling. You should go look!” And as he walked toward the bathroom, I tiptoed behind him and shrieked for joy when he stopped in his tracks, staring at the mirror.

After a few seconds of silence, I wondered if he was actually happy. Then he turned toward me, tears in his eyes, and without a word, took me in his arms and kissed me for a long time. By the time he pulled away, I could see a tear or two had escaped his wonderstruck eyes and he whispered, “I’m a dad?”  All day long, he would touch my stomach and say, “There’s a baby in there.” We two could have died of pure happiness.

The next few weeks of having to keep our joy a secret was agonizing, for me especially. When we finally got to tell our parents the news (read about telling my parents here) our shared euphoria lifted us clear into the heavens. The excitement only escalated as we told grandparents, friends, and eventually posting the news on billboards all over the world (i.e. Facebook).  To all of you who gave us kind words of congratulations and encouragement, we thank you.

So now that my husband and I have shouted our news from the rooftops, I’ve just now stopped to think about what’s made this such a monumental event for us. It’s love. Love is what makes me cry every time I think about holding my unborn child in my arms in 30ish weeks. Love is what makes seeing my child move on the ultrasound screen and hearing that heartbeat the most incredible feeling I’ve ever experienced. Love is what makes me terrified and more prayerful than ever that we will raise our child to be happy, to be healthy, to serve God wholeheartedly, and to never doubt for a millisecond just how much he/she is surrounded by–you guessed it–love.

I’ve just described feelings that many of you readers have felt. If you’ve experienced this kind of love, I hope it strikes you as it does me that that’s how God feels about us. The kind of love that never wants us to hurt. The kind of love that cringes and cries when we are taught a necessary lesson that hurts. The kind of love that is worth dying for.

Yesterday, my husband and I went to an emergency ultrasound that was in-between our regularly scheduled appointments. I had experienced something irregular that prompted me to call the doctor and she insisted I come in right away to check everything out. This was an altogether new sensation for me. I had experienced all the pleasure and thrill of my baby’s existence—I had yet to experience the chilling fear that my baby was somehow hurt. I couldn’t hold down my lunch before the appointment, and I cried all the way there in the car while my supportive husband masked his own trepidation and assured that he was sure everything was fine. I didn’t know how I’d ever be able to handle losing my precious unborn child. The very thought was a foreign and horrifying feeling for me, and I don’t want to ever feel it again.

Fortunately, everything was fine. The baby is growing and thriving just as he/she should be, and all of my blood tests were perfect. But once again, I’m struck with how much God must love us.

Here I was losing my mind over the slight possibility of something being wrong with my child who I’ve never touched with my hands, had a conversation with, or seen except for vague outlines on a screen, and yet my God spent an eternity with his Son. He had all the feelings of love I have for my child, and yet He sent his precious Son to this rotten, sin-filled earth, knowing He would have to die. He had to listen while His child begged Him to make it where He didn’t have to die. But God knew the only way all of us humans could be saved was if His only Son were to die.  What drove him to allow something so heinous to happen to his child? Love. That’s the only thing in the world powerful enough for Him to make a sacrifice that devastating.

We’re just beginning this journey of parenthood, but I think this experience will help me in my understanding of God’s love. I’m learning that love for your offspring is the most powerful, most wonderful, and most terrifying feeling in the world. Maybe that’s why he put the desire to reproduce in people…so that we could better understand what he went through for us.  In this the Love of God was made manifest among us, that God send His only Son into the world, so that we might live…In this is love, not that we have loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins (I John 4:9-10).

Next time you look at your child, whether it be on an ultrasound screen or while tucking him into bed tonight, think about how much you love that little one, and remember that God loves you like that. Pretty amazing.