Hard Does Not Mean Bad

“Last night was a bad night.”

These words have been in my mind and on my tongue for the previous two months. During the first three months of his life, our son, Kolbe, slept like a typical infant. He would go anywhere from 2 to 4 hours between feeds at night. It felt quite manageable and routine. He would wake, I would nurse him, he would drift back to sleep, and we would settle in again for the night.

Then, around the three-month mark, things began to change. What once felt predictable suddenly unraveled. He began waking every hour, sometimes even less. I thought it was just a sleep regression that he would outgrow.

Nearly two months later, he showed absolutely zero signs of improvement. I realized this was not a phase, and my husband and I were at a breaking point. We needed more sleep.

I began learning more about baby sleep, and we started implementing some gentle sleep practices. Around that same time, Kolbe had his oral ties released. Once he fully recovered, his silent reflux began to improve. Slowly but surely, the night wakings decreased.

At nearly six months old, and after over two months of extremely frequent night wakings, he slept through the night for the first time! But that same morning, I was quickly reminded that I was still exclusively breastfeeding. For my own comfort, I realized I needed to feed him one time during the night. So, each night, I began getting up only once to feed him. Oh, what bliss!

Although I felt immense relief, a deep undercurrent of anxiety remained. “What if this doesn’t last? What if things go back to the way they were?”

Once I started sleeping better, I clung to an elusive sense of control around sleep. How could this be? Improved sleep was an answered prayer! Yet, when my circumstances changed for the better, my anxiety only grew.

“From the love of my own comfort, deliver me Jesus.” These words echoed in my mind. I knew I needed to surrender my attachment to sleep if I was ever going to find real peace. I went to God and laid all my anxieties at His feet (or so I thought).

I should have known the Lord would put my surrender to the test!

That same night, Kolbe’s sleep took a turn for the worse. The next morning, I felt panicked. “Oh my gosh! I just confessed these fears to the Lord, and now they are coming true!”

My brain began to spiral. “Lord, I cannot go backward! Please, no more bad nights!”

As I type this now, I realize what a silly prayer it was. Even if Kolbe continued sleeping in long, uninterrupted stretches, at some point, he would be on the verge of cutting a tooth, come down with a cold, or enter a sleep regression—all of which would disrupt peaceful sleep.

If I wanted to find deep, abiding rest, I had to let go of control and attachment.

That same morning, before I sat down for quiet time with the Lord, a prayer I wrote caught my eye. Although it hung on the wall in my office, I often paid little attention to it. Yet, I felt the Holy Spirit nudge me to read it.

My body is a living sacrifice.

Therefore, ALL I do –

be it the mundane and tedious, or the tiresome and difficult,

or the grandiose and extraordinary, or the unimaginable and impossible

– I do for the glory of God.

When I do this, all I do is holy and good.

Whatever God gives me, I steward, and I leave the rest to Him.

Take, Lord, all that I offer and bless it according to Your good will.

You take my lack and turn it into abundance.

You take my ashes and turn them into beauty.

You take my mustard seed and move mountains.

I praise You, for Your ways are higher than mine.

Your plans are better than mine.

Your thoughts are holier than mine.

Lord, you know I try to run ahead. Don’t let me go.

Keep my eyes on you alone.

Night wakings are tedious, tiresome, difficult, and often feel impossible. Yet, my body is a living sacrifice. Therefore, what is tedious, tiresome, difficult, and seemingly impossible is not inherently bad.

Telling myself, “Last night was a bad night,” did nothing but convince me to cling to the love of comfort and resist all sacrifice.

Instead, when I recognize this sacrifice as a means to glorify God, knowing He can use it for good, then indeed, those nights can be good! In fact, the sanctification and growth I experienced during those two months is nothing short of a miracle, and it happened all because of God’s grace amid difficult circumstances.

My body is a living sacrifice.

Therefore, ALL I do –

be it the mundane and tedious, or the tiresome and difficult,

or the grandiose and extraordinary, or the unimaginable and impossible

– I do for the glory of God.

When I do this, all I do is holy and good.

Now, please don’t hear what I’m not saying.

I’m not saying all mothers should trudge through bare minimum sleep without any help or solutions. At the peak of frequent night wakings, I had a difficult time functioning during the day. I knew something needed to change. So, I did what I could. I stewarded what needed to be stewarded, I made necessary changes, and I offered the rest to God.

Whatever God gives me I steward, and I leave the rest to Him.

Take Lord, all that I offer, and bless it according to Your good will.

However, the perfect control I clung to directly opposed the improved sleep I was receiving. Although my circumstances changed, my heart hardened. The result? Deep anxiety and worldly attachment to comfort.

God answered my prayers. When I asked Him, “What if?” He didn’t waste any time to show me. He allowed a night of poor sleep and turned it into breakthrough!

You take my lack and turn it into abundance.

You take my ashes and turn them into beauty.

You take my mustard seed and move mountains.

He showed me, in a tangible way, that I don’t need to fear difficult nights. They will come, but I can lean on the Lord during those trials and trust that God works all things for our good.

Therefore, difficult, when surrendered to God, can actually be good. Those hours sacrificed are not just for my son, but to glorify the Lord.

I praise You, for Your ways are higher than mine.

Your plans are better than mine.

Your thoughts are holier than mine.

So, what now? Will I go forth each night with perfect surrender and serenity despite difficult nights? Doubtful.

There will be times when I’m tempted toward despair, frustration, and impatience. But in those moments, I can remind myself that hard does not mean bad. These nights are not bad nights—they are hard nights—and through our Lord, I am capable of doing hard things.

Dear friend, you are capable of this as well. We can rest in the Lord, lean on His strength, and receive His peace no matter the circumstance—be it night wakings, difficult relationships, health scares, or whatever trials you are facing.

Lord, you know I try to run ahead. Don’t let me go.

Keep my eyes on you alone.