Last night, just as my eyes were begging shut from an overdose of fatigue and painful Ynet eulogies, I heard my one year old daughter wake up. Although she soothes herself back to sleep within minutes, last night–last night I didn’t let that happen. I went into her dark room and hugged her as tightly as possible.

What was lost in sight was compensated by our cheeks meeting and our seemingly synchronized sighs. I hugged her. I hugged for every mother throughout our history who didn’t have the chance to give one last hug. For every Jewish mother who was robbed of a child by another rogue state or religion fighting in another name — Egypt, Rome, Greece, Jesus, Mohammed, and all the modern ‘isms. And mostly, for every IDF soldier’s mother, wishing she could solve her son’s war-torn woes by rocking him back and forth, back and forth, in her arms.

And I knew in that moment that we will emerge from this mess victorious. Because, as Golda Meir suggested, we still do love our children more than we hate our enemy. Hamas mistakes our strength–a love of life– for our weakness. In every generation, we are faced with a people that seeks our destruction and in every generation, our perseverance, and love, prevails.  Ultimately, our destiny will be determined by our nation’s moral clarity, compassion, and Jewish mothers like me, who only want to give our children lots and lots of hugs.