This morning around 4am my daughter woke me out of a sound sleep to tell me she was going potty. Fine, fine. I sent my husband to deal with it, since I knew the middle of the night baby feeding was just around the corner.
In my sleepy haze I bleared at the clock and realized it was past time for the baby to be hungry. He should at least be lifting his two little legs high into the air and slamming them down on his mattress. I bleared over at him.
Suddenly I was wide awake. I listened, but could only hear the sound of bathroom tinkles. I reached over from the bed to the cradle and gave the baby a poke. Nothing. Not a stir.
I sat up and reached down and felt his cheek. Not just cool. Cold. And he still didn't move. This is where I literally felt my own heart STOP. I put both hands on him and gave him a big shake.
He took a great big breath and groaned a sleepy little baby sound.
I sometimes fret that I started having children so much later than I wanted and I'll have less time with them than if I'd started earlier. Last night just scared another 10 years off my life.