It’s 2:12 a.m. and I’m rocking my six-month-old to sleep after she woke from some painful teething. I could put her down now that she’s sufficiently drowsy, but I don’t want to at this moment. There have been days when I’ve had to leave her in her crib as she cried while I walked out of her nursery, closed the door and crumpled into a mess of tears and exhaustion. But, tonight is different.
Tonight, I silently celebrated that I have more good days than bad days. Tonight, I held my daughter and thanked God for getting me through the first six months as a mom.
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