In the late 1970s, I was sitting in a charting station at Brookfield Hospital in Wisconsin. Next to me a social worker wrote in her records. A little tired, I complained about yet another night of sleep interrupted by our recently-weaned son crying from his bedroom next to ours.
She looked at me, tilted her head to the side, and said, "But that is what you are here for."
After that single sentence, I never grumbled or felt sorry for myself when I woke up and walked down that dark hallway.
And, I wasn't as tired the following day.