In the wee small hours of the morning

At precisely 3:48am this morning, I got out of bed, groped my way through semi-darkness to the far end of the house, got under the covers and snuggled up next to Cheeks. On her bed.

It was a surprising reversal of roles.

Today, the little one did not have to wake up to yet another one of Mummy's 'disappearing acts'. Neither did she have to drag her limp body and favourite bolster to papa and mummy's bed in search of comfort and security.

Because today, Mummy did the seeking instead.

As I lay beside her, my unsettled mind began to calm - miraculously lulled by the sounds her snorts and snores, and the steady thumping of her heart as I lay my head against her back. I clasped her cool feet in my hands - slightly miffed that she'd taken her woolly socks off again - and within minutes, drifted to sleep.

I felt safe, comforted.

And I'm the Mummy.

I've always heard it said that 'children are a blessing from God' but I never quite realised the depth of its meaning, or how real it is in my life. For all the heartaches, sacrifices, difficulties we endure for them, with them, our children remain our little BIG blessings.

You may not know it now but as much as they need us, we as parents, need them too.

I was a little late finding that out. But I'm glad I eventually did. Today.