Some nights, you are stressed about work because the last shift was tough and you've been off for a few days, and you have four shifts this week, two in a row, and you're not sure how you're going to get through them.
And on some of those nights, your baby wakes up at 2:30 screaming. And you give him Tylenol and milk and graham crackers and cuddles, and he goes soft and quiet in your arms, and you try to put him back in bed, and it starts all over again. So you go into your own room and hope that he'll quiet down in five minutes, like usual.
When he doesn't, you go back, feeling guilty for not being there not only in the last five minutes but for the next two days. You repeat the cycle again, his eyelids start to flutter closed, you tuck "kitty" into his arms and try again.
And the process repeats.
So you sit out in the front room with your computer and cry with him but separate from him, fighting with the knowledge that he needs to sleep and can't do it with you in the room and the pain of hearing him scream because he is tired and confused and can't settle himself down.
Then his cries turn to shuddering sighs and he falls asleep, while you sit in front of a computer screen, robbed of rest, knowing your alarm will go off in 66 minutes and you have a 12 hour shift coming your way.
And the only good out of the situation is the thought, "Well, I guess I'm really going to have to rely on Heavenly Father to get me through this day."
Here's to a day of lots of praying and a merciful assignment.