For me, being a mom comes natural - according to no one's standards but my own. I don't mean this in an "I'm-the-perfect-mom" type way, simply that I wasn't a nervous wreck the moment my son arrived. This is entirely thanks to my youngest brother, Jake, who is now 8 years old. When he came into the family, I was 15. My mom allowed me the opportunity to be a mini-mom and help with Jake in as many ways as I was willing. Remember, I was 15, so I still had that bratty teenage demeanor. I was no saint. And to prove my point, when I visited my mom in the hospital after she gave birth, I fell asleep in her bed when she took a shower. She patiently sat in the chair beside me and let me sleep. Thinking back on that and knowing how a woman feels after giving birth (it's like your downstairs was involved in a ridiculous UFC fight), I would have kicked my butt out of that bed. I think I'll spend the rest of my life apologizing to her for that little blip on my daughter radar.

However, I did love taking care of Jake. When I got home from school, I always wanted to go in and wake him from a nap. That's where I learned lesson #1: never wake a sleeping baby.

But my mom was patient enough with me to teach me how to bathe, dress and feed a newborn. So, when my son arrived, I didn't tremble in fear the first time I had to change his diaper or give him a bath. I didn't get nervous about picking up his delicate little body or passing him from my arms to another's. The first time I left him was hard, there's no mistaking that, but it was do-able.

I'm a great multi-tasker, and I pride myself on always having been that way. When it comes to motherhood, I can feed Jimmy with one hand and check work emails with another, all while drinking a cup of coffee. I can change his onesie with one hand and cradle him in one arm while cooking dinner. I'm still learning a lot of things about being a mom but right now I think I'm doing a great job for a first-timer.

But last night was not my shining moment. For the first time in 5 weeks I got really frustrated with Jimmy's nighttime feedings. He is usually in bed for the night around 11:30 p.m., having finished at least 3 hours worth of cluster feedings that will get him through 4-5 hours of sleep. But last night was different. He cluster fed for a few hours, went to sleep, and woke up every 2 hours for the remainder of the night. This kid would just not get full. On top of that, I was half-asleep trying to feed him when I realized he somehow managed to pee through his diaper. His back was soaked in urine, meaning he needed a nice, quick sponge bath and some new pj's. He screamed the entire time, making my job that much harder. I remember raising my voice slightly to him, and then quickly reprimanding myself for doing so. He's 5 weeks old for crying out loud! He only cries when he really, really doesn't like something. He's not manipulating me in any way, he's just doing the only thing he knows how to do. Eat. Sleep. Poop.

I woke up this morning feeling defeated. The moment I gave birth, I told myself I wouldn't let my lack of sleep affect how I mothered. I had successfully gone 5 weeks without it happening, and then I slipped up. After a cup of coffee and some quiet time with the Lord, I realized I wasn't a bad mom. My patience was restored. My son would never remember my frustration from the night before and he didn't love me any less. I didn't love him any less. Things could resume as normal and I could pick up being a mommy right where I left off. As if God knew I needed the extra reassurance, Jimmy smiled at me about 50 times during his morning feeding and his awake time. My heart melted and tears welled in my eyes. Although this is the hardest job in the world, I wouldn't trade it for the highest paid job any day.