I broke down. Again. This is unacceptable.
Tonight she fell asleep while nursing so I held her on my lap and Twittered and tried to get through about ninety gazillion new posts in Google reader. It was about 1am and Twitter was boring and so I decided to correct my shitty sleeping habits by going to bed early.
Wait, I missed something. Before bed time. Peanut was sleeping on my lap and she acted as if she was having a bad dream. I held her to my chest and gently rocked and shushed her in hopes that she would either wake up and realize that everything was okay or that her bad dream would leave her thoughts and she’d go back to sleeping peacefully. The former was the result. I knew she was okay. Whatever was bothering her was gone.
At least, I hope it’s that easy for babies.
What I’m trying to say is that I can’t sleep.
Tonight’s fear is that something will fall on her. A bookshelf is what I keep picturing in my head. Fuck my head.
I laid down in our bed with Peanut and couldn’t even attempt to go to sleep. I started bouncing from one horrible thought to the next. I thought about those sick bastards who harm babies (those people deserve to die) or people who neglect their babies. I had a fearful thought that Peanut would roll off of the bed and onto the floor and in the morning I’d get out of bed and accidentally step on her.
As I am reading over that last sentence I’m crying over the thought again.
I got out of bed, secured Peanut so that she wouldn’t roll off, and went over to my husband’s side to make sure he knew that she was next to him. He knows where she is – he’s just as aware of her as I am. I lean in to tell him that I’m getting up because I can’t sleep and as I start to tell him why I begin to cry.
I sob loudly and cry out “How do babies survive in this horrible world?” And then I ask him the most horrible question that’s ever come out of my mouth: “Have you ever raped the baby?” And I knew the answer was NO but because my fucking crazy train of a mind was thinking it that’s what came out.
Thankfully my husband didn’t get offended or at least didn’t let on that he was hurt by that question because he knew it was just fucked up ol‘ Lauren being all fucked up.
We have gone back to co-sleeping at night. If she is in her crib in her room it’s just too far away and too many bad things could happen. I need her right next to me. I still check to make sure she’s breathing even though her tummy is touching mine.
I am not afraid of her dying of cancer or some other awful illness. I’m not afraid of SIDS (anymore). I’m afraid of outside forces causing harm to my little Peanut. I am eleventy-billion percent certain that I would never hurt her and I know that her dad and the rest of her family would never do anything to harm her but everyone else? Hell, even objects are a threat now thanks to her recent developments in mobility. And what worries me about any future medication usage is that it will make me sluggish and inhibit my panther-like reflexes. I don’t want to be bat shit crazy mom but I don’t want to be zoned out droopy mom either. Because while I know that she will be okay and that I’m being a total whack-job, none of that logic seems to be around at 1am.