Recently we’ve entered a new phase in our household concerning the Mini.
This wonderful new phase consists of a complete and utter REFUSAL to sleep, unless the hubby or I are sitting in the room with her.
And by refusal I mean bloodcurdling cries, heart wrenching screaming, thrashing until she bleeds, refusal.
An already not great sleeper, the Mini, this new phase has caused a lot of extra sleepless nights over here. Nights that, although the hubby is more than willing to share, the whole twelve hour work day prevents much of his participation.
So the enjoyment of all of this falls mostly on my shoulders.
And for the past week or so the majority of my nights have been spent praying – no – begging the Lord to please, please, please let this child go. to. sleep.
Combined of course with the frustration, anger, and exhaustion (duh) that comes with sleepless nights.
Please, try and contain your jealousy.
Last night I went into the evening already dreading how badly I knew it was going to go. The initial struggle to get the Mini to bed was my foreshadowing of the rest of the evening (and early morning…).
As I sat and rocked her, I actually heard my desperate prayers for the first time.
Please dear God let her sleep. I am SO. TIRED. and I just really really want to sleep. So please let her sleep tonight…
And suddenly as I whispered those words out loud it struck me how completely and totally selfish that prayer was.
Did you catch it?
I needed sleep, and I was tired.
And although that was (is) true (and don’t get me wrong, sleep is a good and necessary thing), it sounded terrible when I said it out loud.
I have no idea why we’ve entered this phase of additional sleeplessness, but regardless of the reason, why was I more important than anyone else?
It was a humbling moment for me.
I realized that I was valuing myself much higher than my daughter or even my husband, because my only goal was MY sleep.
So, despite my poor attitude, and honestly not really wanting to, I changed the words to my prayer.
I started praying that no matter how badly the night went, I would have the strength to serve my daughter.
That instead of focusing on how tired and frustrated I was, I would be showing my daughter the love of Christ.
It took a few minutes of praying about this, but slowly my attitude and outlook on the evening changed from it being all about me, to being all about serving.
And you know what?
Last night was one of the worst nights since this new phase has started.
Bad enough where I had to go wake up my poor sleeping hubby to ask him to spot me twenty minutes because I was no longer a functioning human being.
But even though sleep was elusive yet again, I wasn’t thinking (much) about my own tiredness as I sat on the very hard floor of the Mini’s room.
Because it’s not about me.
None of this is about me.
Not motherhood, not sleeping, not even life in general.
And I know I’m going to slip up again, and fall back into my ugly grumpy attitude, but I was thankful last night for my moment of clarity.
For an opportunity to serve.
For the ability to show my daughter a love that doesn’t just come from inside my tired heart.
And while I’m very much looking forward to the end of this exciting new phase (and hopefully a little more sleep) my prayer is that no matter how long this lasts I won’t be looking at it as an interruption of my much desired sleep.
But rather, as a privilege to serve.
As an opportunity to channel the love of Christ.
As a reminder that it’s not about me, but it’s about Him, and serving, with His help, well in the situations He puts in front of me.
And what a blessing that is.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to start my morning caffeine drip.