We’ve officially hit the eighteen month sleep regression, and mamas, I’m tired.

Our daughter woke up hysterical last night, and although my hubby initially got up with her (yep, I’ve got a good one!) girlfriend just wouldn’t calm down and she eventually reached for me.

And as I held her against my chest, the tears started to flow.

Not from frustration.
Not from exhaustion. (Okay, well maybe a little.)

But mostly just from gratitude.

What a gift it is to be needed like this.
What a gift it is to be her safe place.
What a gift it is to experience the incomparable bond between a mama and her baby.

The chaos of our normal days can so easily distract me from this perspective, the weariness and busyness speaking louder than the blessings.

But there is something about these middle of the night meetings that makes time stand still.
That touches your heart like nothing else will.
That reminds you that the work you’re doing in this season has so much more beauty in it than you sometimes let yourself realize.

And as I stood there rocking my girl, I couldn’t help but whisper a prayer of praise to the One who so graciously blessed me with a priceless moment my heart didn’t know it needed.

And as it turns out, my girl didn’t need me last night near as much as I needed her.

---