being strong

So, two out of the last three nights, I've had to go into Blake's room in the wee hours to comfort him. He's waking up out of habit, not fear (as far as I can tell), and wants to sleep on the floor next to my bed. I comfort him, give him a glass of water, and tell him kindly and firmly that big boys have to sleep in their own beds. I then leave the room, climb into my own bed, and turn off the baby monitor. His impassioned cries still reach my ears, and I'm in agony.

I am reminded of Daddy Blake's cousin, April, who told me that when they decided to force the issue of sleeping through the night, her husband had to hold her down in the bed to keep her from running to their son's room to answer and soothe his cries. I am also reminded of the dear friends who, in an effort to keep me realistic, assure me that husbands aren't always that helpful when it comes to discipline, or teaching kids to eat, or whatever. As I cried, separated from my son, I reflected that even a not-very-helpful husband would be there with me, helping me be strong for the long-term benefit of our boy. I am tired of being strong for myself, and I am ready to lean on the strength of another...so I prayed that God would "hold me down," as it were, and that He would answer the cries of my heart: don't leave me alone.