As I sit here holding you for the twentieth hour of day three, your warm little body tucked into mine, all I can think about is the to-do list waiting for me. The emails unanswered. The laundry piling up. The meals not planned. The workweek ahead that already feels too full.
My mind races with everything that needs to happen to keep this house and this family moving forward. The weight of it presses in…the anxiety of not having enough time, not doing enough, not being enough.
And then comes the guilt.
Guilt that while I’m holding you. while I’m your comfort, your calm, your safe place, my thoughts are elsewhere. Guilt that my brain won’t quiet when this is exactly where I should want to be. Fully present. Fully content.
This sick season has consumed our family. The long nights. The constant cuddles. The clinginess that only comes when little bodies don’t feel their best.
But when exhaustion hits and fevers rise, it gets quiet.
And you remind me of something simple and true.
All you need is me.
Not the clean kitchen.
Not the folded laundry.
Not the perfectly planned week.
Not the productive version of me.
Just me.
Your safe space.
And how blessed am I to be that for you?
One day you won’t need to be held for twenty hours. One day you’ll push away from my arms instead of burrow deeper into them. This season, as exhausting and overwhelming as it feels, is fleeting.
So I will let the house be messy.
We will order takeout for once.
The laundry can wait — you still have clean clothes in your drawer.
The emails will still be there tomorrow.
What won’t always be here is this.
Your small hand wrapped around my finger.
Your steady breathing against my chest.
The way you melt when I whisper, “I’m here. Mom’s got you.”
I will not get this time back.
So today, I choose to quiet the guilt.
I choose to release the pressure.
I choose to be thankful for this moment.
Because right now, the only thing that truly needs to be accomplished, is this. Being your steady place, being your mom.