The stories we’ll wish we wrote down
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.
There are certain motherhood moments that don’t announce themselves as life-changing. They don’t come with soft lighting or a meaningful soundtrack. No one is standing nearby with a camera saying, “This is going to alter your entire perspective on your childhood.” Sometimes it happens while you’re standing at the sink. Again. Washing dishes. Again. For the third time that day. I was a single mom with a toddler underfoot, doing the regular daily survival dance of snacks, dishes, diapers, crumbs, questions, spills, and more dishes somehow. On top of that, I was helping care for my mom while she recovered…
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.