When the child grows and develops， he becomes capable of perceiving things as they are； the satisfaction in being fed becomes differentiated from the nipple， the breast from the mother. Eventually the child experiences his thirst， the satisfying milk， the breast and the mother， as different entities. He learns to perceive many other things as being different， as having an existence of their own. At this point he learns to give them names. At the same time he learns to handle them； learns that fire is hot and painful， that mother’s body is warm and pleasureful， that wood is hard and heavy， that paper is light and can be torn. He learns how to handle people； that mother will smile when I eat； that she will take me in her arms when Icry； that she will praise me when I have a bowel movement. All these experiences become crystallized and integrated in the experience： I am loved. I am loved because I am mother’s child. I am loved because I am helpless. I am loved because I am beautiful， admirable. I am loved because mother needs me. To put it in a more general formula： I am loved for what I am， or perhaps more accurately， I am loved because I am. This experience of being loved by mother is a passive one. There is nothing I have to do in order to be loved—mother’s love is unconditional. All I have to do is to be—to be her child. Mother’s love is bliss， is peace， it need not be acquired， it need not be deserved. But there is a negative side， too， to the unconditional quality of mother’s love. Not only does it not need to be deserved—it also cannot be acquired， produced， controlled. If it is there， it is like a blessing； if it is not there， it is as if all beauty had gone out of life—and there is nothing I can do to create it.
For most children before the age from eight and a half to ten， the problem is almost exclusively that of being loved—of being loved for what one is. The child up to this age does not yet love； he responds gratefully， joyfully to being loved. At this point of the child’s development a new factor enters into the picture： that of a new feeling of producing love by one’s own activity. For the first time， the child thinks of giving something to mother （or to father）， of producing something—a poem， a drawing， or whatever it may be. For the first time in the child’s life the idea of love is transformed from being loved into loving； into creating love. It takes many years from this first beginning to the maturing of love. Eventually the child， who may now be an adolescent， has overcome his egocentricity； the other person is not any more primarily a means to the satisfaction of his own needs. The needs of the other person are as important as his own—in fact， they have become more important. To give has become more satisfactory， more joyous， than to receive； to love， more important even than being loved. By loving， he has left the prison cell of aloneness and isolation which was constituted by the state of narcissism and self- centeredness. He feels a sense of new union， of sharing， of oneness. Morethan that， he feels the potency of producing love by loving—rather than the dependence of receiving by being loved—and for that reason having to be small， helpless， sick—or “good.” Infantile love follows the principle： “I love because I am loved.” Mature love follows the principle： “I am loved because I love.” Immature love says： “I love you because I need you.” Mature love says： “I need you because I love you.”
Closely related to the development of the capacity of love is the development of the object of love. The first months and years of the child are those where his closest attachment is to the mother. This attachment begins before the moment of birth， when mother and child are still one， although they are two. Birth changes the situation in some respects， but not as much as it would appear. The child， while now living outside of the womb， is still completely dependent on mother. But daily he becomes more independent： he learns to walk， to talk， to explore the world on his own； the relationship to mother loses some of its vital significance， and instead the relationship to father becomes more and more important.
In order to understand this shift from mother to father， we must consider the essential differences in quality between motherly and fatherly love. We have already spoken about motherly love. Motherly love by its very nature is unconditional. Mother loves the newborn infant because it is her child， not because the child has fulfilled any specific condition， or lived up to any specific expectation. （Of course， when I speak here of mother’s and father’s love， I speak of the “ideal types” —in Max Weber’s sense or of an archetype in Jung’s sense—and do not imply that every mother and father loves in that way. I refer to the fatherly and motherly principle， which is represented in the motherly and fatherly person.） Unconditional love corresponds to one of the deepest longings， not only of the child， but of every human being； on the other hand， to be loved because of one’s merit， because one deserves it， always leaves doubt； maybe I did not please the person whom I want to love me， maybe this， or that—there is always a fear that love could disappear. Furthermore， “deserved” loveeasily leaves a bitter feeling that one is not loved for oneself， that one is loved only because one pleases， that one is， in the last analysis， not loved at all but used. No wonder that we all cling to the longing for motherly love， as children and also as adults. Most children are lucky enough to receive motherly love （to what extent will be discussed later）. As adults the same longing is much-more difficult to fulfill. In the most satisfactory development it remains a component-of normal erotic love； often it finds expression in religious forms， more often in neurotic forms.