My daughter only slept in 30 minute intervals last night. She has bronchitis and an ear infection. I hate to see my baby suffer. I decided around 4 a.m. that I wouldn’t bother going back to sleep. I cradled her in one arm and perused the Internet on my phone. I came across an article about two U.S. Soldiers killed in Afghanistan. It made me think. This may be just another number to some, but somewhere in America a mother is mourning her baby. The man dressed in camouflage was once wrapped in a soft blue blanket. She got goosebumps when he giggled. She called her best friend when he spoke his first word. She taught him to walk and say his alphabet. She cried when he went on his first date and graduated from high school. I sat for a moment with tears in my eyes. These mothers had countless sleepless nights when their child had a fever. They nurtured a little boy, disciplined a teenager and sent an honorable young man to war. Now, their babies are gone. I held my daughter until the sun came up grateful she was in my arms.