Ever since Peanut passed away, I've gotten more protective of Colt (16 months). Not bubble-boy protective, just more aware, more concerned, and hovering a little closer. I understand he is a boy and he's going to fall, get dirty, and put questionable things in his mouth. I am just painfully aware how precious he is. (which he always has been of course)
I know I have no reason to worry. But every single morning, if I wake up before Colt, I get scared. Heart pumping, thoughts racing, kind of scared. Colt has always been a good sleeper but now I imagine the worst.
"It's so quiet because he's not breathing."
"He fell out of his crib and broke his neck."
"He's dead because *insert horrible, far stretched scenario*."
The other morning as I walked down the hall to his room, still quiet, I was praying "please be okay, please be okay." He was, of course, okay. He heard the floor creak and started whining. But I was honest-to-God scared something was wrong.
I have always checked on him if he slept longer then usual, but now I'm terrified I'll walk in and find him not breathing.
And I don't think I'll ever stop worrying.
I know I have no reason to worry. But every single morning, if I wake up before Colt, I get scared. Heart pumping, thoughts racing, kind of scared. Colt has always been a good sleeper but now I imagine the worst.
"It's so quiet because he's not breathing."
"He fell out of his crib and broke his neck."
"He's dead because *insert horrible, far stretched scenario*."
The other morning as I walked down the hall to his room, still quiet, I was praying "please be okay, please be okay." He was, of course, okay. He heard the floor creak and started whining. But I was honest-to-God scared something was wrong.
I have always checked on him if he slept longer then usual, but now I'm terrified I'll walk in and find him not breathing.
And I don't think I'll ever stop worrying.