Last fall, I experienced two frightening health events—one in September and another in October—that I’m still recovering from. I’m not quite ready to share the full story here just yet, but I will when the time is right. On top of that, I’m now dealing with yet another confirmed sinus infection.

Yesterday, I had an ENT appointment. When I got home, I was greeted at the door with the kind of hug that stays with you—a full-body, tight squeeze around my legs from my little one. It felt like he had been holding his breath while I was gone, unsure if I’d be back. My appointment ran longer than expected, and I started to feel a familiar pang of guilt. My husband, who’s also recovering from a cold, had been home with him the whole time.

Later that afternoon, my son climbed into my lap while we watched Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood, wrapping himself around me with quiet intensity. It wasn’t the first time he’s wanted closeness—but this felt different. It felt like a little heart saying, “I noticed you were gone. I’m glad you’re back.”

That evening, as we talked about our day and the things we’re thankful for, he said something simple that melted me:
“I’m thankful I have a mama and a daddy.”

I went downstairs and shared that moment with my husband. His heart melted, too.

It’s in these tiny, quiet exchanges—sticky hands wrapped around my legs, soft cheeks pressed into my shoulder, spontaneous words of gratitude—that I feel the deep, unseen work of being a mother taking root. These are the moments that remind me why I keep showing up, even when I’m tired, even when I’m unwell.