Breathe, Baby, breathe.

Haven slept through the night last night. I usually get up once a night, sometimes twice, and I don't mind; yeah, it interrupts my sleep, but there's a lot of reassurance knowing that she's alright during the wee hours. 


I'm no different than any other Mom. I've stood outside my children's rooms, straining to hear their breathing, knowing that if I go into the room to make sure they're alright, I will wake them up, but unable to stop myself. I just need reassurance that they are still breathing.

When Sonja and I got up this morning at 6.20am, Haven was still asleep. I knew I shouldn't go in there, I knew she would wake up on her own, but the fact that I hadn't gone to her in the night was gnawing on me. All the usual thoughts were racing through my mind and they all lead to the same fear: What if she's not OK?

Sonja was anything but quiet when we went into the bedroom and I figured that by the time I looked into the crib, Haven would be starting to sit up. So when I saw her lying on her tummy, her face turned away, the pale light in the room making her look equally pale, the surge of adrenaline hit me like a bomb. I stopped breathing. I stopped moving. I stared. I waited. Fifty thousand terrible, horrendous thoughts ran through my head. Move, Haven. Move, Baby. Move.

Sonja was squealing with excitement, saying something about wanting to get into Haven's crib. My mouth opened, nothing came out, I took a breath through my open mouth, and finally Haven moved. Finally. The whole moment couldn't have been more than three seconds.

I know I'll never get past this fear of my children dying in their sleep. Sonja's over three-years old and I still go in and check on her in the night. If she sleeps past 7am, I'm officially worried. Again, I'm no different than any other Mom and this is a story we can all relate to, one we've all experienced in one form or another. But knowing that doesn't make it any less intense, any less real when the fear strikes.

As I plucked Haven from her crib, my hands were trembling. Hell, I was trembling all over; shaking like a leaf, as they say. As I kissed Haven's cheek over and over, I noticed that my lips were tingling. She had sleep lines all over her little cheek and her eyes were all drowsy and she was smiling ear-to-ear, so excited to see us. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. Just like it is every time.