I’m awakened in the light grey morning hours by the sound of my old dog’s claws pacing back and forth on the wooden floor. Beckoning me out of sleep and reminding me of my duties. Groaning but smiling at my dog, I pull the covers back and take him outside. The greys in his fur have taken over his once midnight face. I stroke him lovingly and sit up. I appreciate every extra day we have with him, and my heart trembles at the day I no longer hear those paws clicking around.

I check the time and I’m surprised no one else is up yet. My eyes sweep over my sweet husband’s face, and I smile at him calmly. That face that I’ve memorized over the years still makes my heart flutter. Gratefulness spreads through my chest as I place a soft kiss on his scruffy cheek as I make my way out of the bedroom.

I check on my boys; they are still, mercifully, fast asleep. Feeling like a time thief, I run back to the yard to sit quietly for a few moments. The world is beginning to come alive in this important silence. It’s the kind of quiet that allows reflection and true rest.

Reflecting on some things, I’ve come to the realization that motherhood has not been kind, easy, or gentle by any stretch of the imagination. But very much like steel must be forged in fire to be molded, I too had to be broken down to take the form of the mother that I had to be for my little ones. There have been many grueling moments over the years where I’ve wondered how and when I’d get through with what’s left of my sanity intact.

My back had just touched the back of my patio chair when my dog bumped against my knee, letting me know he was ready for breakfast. Sighing and stretching my back, I stand once again and trudge back to the kitchen, or as I like to call it, my battle station. As soon as the bowl touches the floor, I hear tinkling laughter from down the hallway. I wouldn’t have it any other way, even if my peace comes in short spurts.

Happy little footsteps thump down the hall in excitement, and when they reach me, all disheveled from a good night’s sleep in their warm beds in their safe house, my heart smiles just as much as my face does. The answering hugs are tight, and I mark their growth against my body by how tight I can manage to hug them both at the same time. Each time gets a little harder to do, and my heart marks that too. Then off they go again, busy little boys off on another adventure around the house. Then, the rest of the day begins. The housework awaits, hungry bellies are growling, the slouchy pile of laundry gives me the side eye from the couch, and the dishes need to be cleaned before I use them for what I need to cook. I’m still exhausted from patrolling the house at night, awake from the day’s anxieties and being sure of the future.

I have the urge to call my mom and thank her, tell her I love her and appreciate her. I add it to my mental checklist of things to do for the day. Mother’s Day is also fast approaching, and I need to find presents for my mother and mother-in-law. I always hope for a relaxing day at home with my family, but we’ll see what this year brings… I stop my train of thought before I go further down the rabbit hole and try to clear my mind and focus. Weary but positive, I grip my counter. Time to man the battle station.

This was written by our contributing writer, Isis Jordan.