Miranda Hersey - Midnight Meditations for Moms: Calming Comfort for the Wee Hours

I embrace myself as a mother in all my perceived shortcomings and flaws.

No one is as hard on me as I am. Instinctively, I want to raise my child with the positive experiences and comforts of my own childhoodand without what I found painful. I want to be a mother who meets every challenge with grace, who doesnt succumb to frustration. Yet I accept that perfection is not real. Not for me, not for anyone.

Every day, I strive to do my best. And when I dont meet my ideal, I can give myself the same empathy and understanding that I give to my child. This is love.

I notice with curiosity that all sounds seem louder at night.

Sometimes, in the quiet, I hear the refrigerator hum, crickets through an open window, the passing of a late-night car or distant train. In the sweetest moments, I hear the rhythmic breathing of my loved ones as they succumb to sleep. On other nights, restlessness or crying fills my ears and hurts my heart. Even in the dark hours of lingering upset and illness, I know that these sounds, like all sounds, will ultimately ebb into stillness.

I remain present in what I hear, remembering that dawn always breaks, returning us to the sounds of a new day and all its promise.

I am steadfast in my commitment to motherhood and all that it encompasses.

My days are full and my list is long. With so much to do, it is often easier to postpone or ignore taking care of myself. But tending to my own needsphysical, emotional, mental, spiritualis essential to being the mother and the person I want to be. In order to be there for others, I need to be there for myself.

I am a better, happier person when I make time to do the things that no one else can do for me. Self-care is my responsibility and a life-giving practice I want to model for my child.

I embrace the intimacy of this moment: I am simply tending to my child.

Time moves more slowly in the dark. I dont have anywhere else to be; I dont have anything else to do. No phone calls or texts, no one waiting to hear from me, no errands, work, or traffic jams. My focus is simply to show love and feel the bond between mother and child. The realm of my experience accordions into the here and now.

I might rather be sleeping, but I can appreciate the gentle respite of this hour and the connection with my child.

I reflect on the tool set that arrived with my child.

Motherhood has revealed within me an inventory of inner resources I didnt know I had. With no measurable prequalification, Im able to accomplish the everyday miracle of keeping a young human alive. Each morning I get up and navigate an ever-changing landscape while doing hard things Ive never done before. Amazingly, I make this happen even within the constraints of broken sleep.

I have strengths, instincts, and aptitudes I dont always recognize.

I look to the morning light that softens yesterdays hard edges.

No matter what happened yesterday, and no matter how I feel about it, every morning I get a fresh start. The dawn reminds me that all things are possible. I can use that new beginning however I want, in ways big or small, or not at all. Amazingly, the day after that, another new beginning will arrive. I reopen this brilliant gift every morning.

With intention and curiosity, I turn over each morning leaf in wonder, fresh with possibility.

I feel connected within this contrast of light and dark.

When the moon is full and the sky is clear, moonbeams spill shadows bright as those cast by the sun. Filtering through windows, moonlight washes cool monochrome over the familiar shapes and colors of this room. In the wee hours of motherhood, moonlight is a quiet and soothing companion, waxing and waning in its monthly metronome. It has kept company to a lineage of humans awake in the night over tens of thousands of years.