Remember when you first became a parent, and your newborn would wake up in the middle of the night (if you’re like me you remember it clearly because your baby still does that)? I recall this sense of running on something that resembled pure adrenaline – minus the heart palpitations. I would hear her cry, get up, change her or feed her or just comfort her without much of a thought about the sleep I was missing. I just did it, because I enjoyed doing it and the novelty of being a parent was so cool. I was running on newness. Eleven months later, I still get up with my baby during the night. My thoughts do drift wistfully to the sleep I am missing, but I don’t dwell on it too much. And while I’m no longer running on newness, there is still something that keeps me going, even in the face of severe sleep deprivation.

Last week, I wrote about hating sleep. That may have been a low point for sleep deprivation, and the frustration started to show. I vowed to experiment – instead of lying in bed, tossing and turning and thinking, waiting for my daughter’s cry, I stopped. I got out of bed, worked until I felt I couldn’t keep my eyes open another minute, and then tried to fall asleep.

The results were amazing.

When I fell back into bed, I actually fell asleep. I know this because within an hour or two, my daughter would inevitably wake up, and her crying woke me. I didn’t lay there waiting for her – I was too tired, my mind – for once – too quiet.

My success drove me to another experiment. This week, instead of going to bed late, I am getting up early. I’ve rolled out of bed a good 75 minutes before my husband wakes up (my alarm goes off at a time I almost consider the middle of the night). I work, I drink coffee, and I enjoy the silence as the gray light slowly filters in through the windows.

But I think there is something else at play here. Because I’ve had to work late before, or get up early to finish assignments or grade papers – but I never actually enjoyed it. Is it the newness of my career? I suppose it could be, but I suspect it’s more than that.

I love what I do.

Every so often, I read the commencement speech that Steve Jobs gave at Stanford seven years ago. It’s famous, now, for the advice he gave and for his insight on his path to personal and professional happiness. Jobs said that the only way to do great work is to do what you love, and that, as “with all matters of the heart, you’ll know it when you find it.”

This applies to me, and to other working moms I know on many levels. This is why we can – and are – successful at home and at work. When you love something, you figure out a way to do it – no matter the hour, no matter how little sleep you’ve had.

I didn’t love my last job; I liked it okay, but I didn’t love it. And trying to be great at something that is just okay doesn’t work. I think it’s a common misconception that making work your life allows you to enjoy the good things – as though your work and your life are two separate entities; they are not. There is too much overlap, and if you are unhappy with one, your discontent will infect the other.

I am writing this with heavy lids and a mile long to-do list, but I’m not worried. I’ve got a pot of coffee and the confidence of knowing I’m exactly where I should be – I’m doing what I love.