These are the years that we don’t sleep.

The years that we hear cries in the night and give cuddles in the darkness.

The years that we don’t sleep in the same bed, but brush hands in the hallway as we pass one another by.

The years that are short, but that nights that are so long.

The years that we change sheets in the middle of the night and sleep with buckets next to the bed.

The years that we take turns answering the calls of the night and say, “Good job,” when the other comes back to bed.

The years that we celebrate the nights when the kids get to sleep over at Grandma’s and for one morning we wake up feeling human again.

The years that we feed babies and change diapers and burp babies and change more diapers and feed babies again.

The years that we wake up weary, and maybe a little snarky, and have to say, “I’m sorry,” as we rub our tired eyes, and choose to forgive the grumpiness once again.

The years that we cling to one another in the early morning hours, looking into each other’s tired eyes, knowing that there is no one else either of us would want to be this exhausted with.

The years that we sit on the couch with our coffees in the morning, and stare at the beautiful little people we created playing on the floor who make us so tired and wonder how they can wake up with so much energy.

Yes, these are the years that we don’t sleep. The years that they say that someday we will miss. But this morning, this is the morning that I’m thankful for you, my partner of musical beds and up all nighters. This morning I’m thankful that I have you for the years that we don’t sleep.