The noise on the monitor – its awful sometimes. Especially when you’re fast asleep. There’s scratching and sucking and whining and crying and that dang vent that clicks constantly (I don’t know how she sleeps in there!)this sleepy baby has no problem sleeping with the vent apparently
I found a news story today about a lil boy who died of SIDS. At 6 months, your chance of SIDS goes down significantly. By a year, the chances are practically nada. So, once Ellabelle reached the six month point, I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. So, behold my inner fear when I read that this lil boy was 7.5 months. ::gasp:: Seriously, my brain did a backwards flip.
I know, I know, that was someone else’s kid. But no one ever thinks its going to be their kid. And he just stopped breathing for no good reason. Ellabelle sleeps like a maniac in that crib of hers. I laugh when I get her up in the morning, but seriously. This shh is real. And here I was thinking I could breathe a lil easier cause she reached 6 months.
And then it dawned on me. The ground shaking, the moon just fell from the sky and crushed me realization that this is just the beginning. If you get past the SIDS age, then she’s walking and putting things in her mouth and nose and ears (I jammed peas up my nose at preschool right before naptime once and spent the whole nap trying to get them out.) Then, she’s off to school where she can get bullied or run over or abducted or (and its totally heartbreaking and ridiculous that I have to say this) shot while in class. Then she’s a preteen at the mall and then theres high school and she’ll be driving, and, so on top of the normal fears of a daughter like teenage pregnancy and boys and drugs and alcohol, she’ll be driving a metal coffin around probably while texting. And don’t even get me started on college….
Annnnndddddd . . . . b r e a t h e .
It’s a wonder anyone’s ever decided to procreate. It’s exhausting and scary. And she’s still just sleeping in her crib, safe from any outside harm. So SIDS aside, this is probably the safest I can ever make her. And that fact is scary and terrifying and life. I’m a worrier anyways. This kid is gonna be the death of me. Let’s count the new grays. There’s a bunch.
So, why did I start with the monitor? What did it have to do with this rant? Well, as much as it irritates me, its a sign of her life. I have a healthy, loud baby on the other end. And I am grateful for that. I remind myself that the noises are a good thing when I can hardly open my eyelids and someone’s crying for breakfast.