Our Keepsake Journal is Here! 🎉

It’s 2:14 a.m., and I’m miles deep in a dream. Through the murkiness, a thin voice reaches me, calling out, “Momma,” and again, “MOMMA!” I surface too fast and gargle the words, “I’ll be right there.”

Bad dreams require reassuring embraces. Warm and solid, I crawl under her covers. She smells of sleep and shampoo. We settle on our sides, facing one another. Her head nestles beneath my chin and her knees tuck against the soft belly that carried her. We become yin and yang, my strength filling the places where she, only five years old, is still small and weak. 

RELATED: The Sacred Call of Midnight

In the dark, I whisper the same phrases my mother once whispered to me, drawing out the words until it becomes a lilting alto lullaby.

It was just a dream. You’re safe in your own bed, in your own house. Momma’s here. Everything’s fine.

This is what I do best.

I don’t play tedious board games or give chase in the yard until my legs become jelly. I don’t step into fantasy games or craft animals out of cut fruit. Lord knows my patience is as thin as the dust on my side tables. But I rub warm, needy backs in the middle of the night like it is my calling.

There is holiness in being a child’s midnight solace. The 11 p.m. fever, the 2 a.m. nightmare, the 3 a.m. feedingall ask a devotion that is largely limited to parents and nurses. We are quiet caretakers, stoic if not worn, like New England lighthouses in a fog.

While the rest of the house sleeps, I minister.

Palm flat in wide circles. Enough pressure to comfort but not so much as to disturb. With each counterclockwise revolution from shoulder to waist I drive away another monster, offer another assurance that she will not be left alone and lost.

RELATED: Love Grows in the Middle of the Night

Outside her window, a few lonely cars roll on the wet street below. Their tires play a cadence on the pockmarked sections of concrete. Thump-thump . . . thump-thump . . . like the beating of our two hearts together.

From miles away, I hear the moan of a freight train trudging through town, searching for a place to belong. 

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Check out our new Keepsake Companion Journal that pairs with our So God Made a Mother book!

Order Now
So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Megan Hanlon

Megan Hanlon is a work-at-home-mom and former journalist who grew up in Texas. She now resides in Ohio with her husband, two children, and a disobedient Boston terrier. Read more at http://sugar-pig.blogspot.com or follow her on Facebook and Twitter at @sugarpigblog.

To My Child: I Will Lay With You Every Night As Long As You Need

In: Child, Motherhood
Mother rand child lay in bed sleeping

It’s the end of the day, and we are both tired. We are both needing our time to unwind from the business of the day. For me, it is my adult time. A chance to sit in the quiet, free from the expectations, the questions, the craziness. A chance to sit and hear myself think. And for you, my sweet child, you need the comfort of our bedtime ritual. You need me to lay with you until you fall asleep. No matter what has happened throughout the day, it is our chance to reconnect. To be present in each other’s...

Keep Reading

The Nights Are So Long

In: Kids, Motherhood
The Nights Are So Long www.herviewfromhome.com

The nights are long. When you’re finally home, hospital bracelet still on your wrist, and your sweet infant girl cries all night. When you try everything you know to soothe her and nothing seems to work, and eventually the tears of joy you expected become tears of exhaustion and frustration. The nights are long. When you rock, soothe, and sing lullabies all to no avail, and that bassinet you chose with such care sits empty, while you walk the length of your home, shushing, and swaying, and praying sleep will come. The nights are long. When the fever is high,...

Keep Reading

The Days Are Long and the Years Are Short—But the Middle of the Night Can Be Magic

In: Motherhood

The days are long but the years are short. This is one of the truest nuggets of overused parenting wisdom we throw around to each other. It lives on because we feel it in our very bones. Today was a barnacle boy day. This kid didn’t leave my side. We were best buds and I was resident LEGO builder and TV watcher and basically as long as we were living life with little to I space between us that life was good. Some days are like that . . . they simply need us to be there. And those days...

Keep Reading