There’s a moment in motherhood when you finally exhale. Not because the laundry’s done (it never is), or because dinner didn’t end in tears (yours or theirs). But because your baby — your sweet, confusing, sleep-fighting baby — has been sleeping through the night. Not once. Not by accident. But for real. A few nights turns into a week. Then a month. But then, just as the ground feels solid again – 3:00 AM. A blood-curdling scream. Out of nowhere.