To say that I love being Andrew's mom is an understatement. He is such a joy and brings so much happiness to mine and J's lives. Yes, he can be frustrating sometimes - like when I am wrestling with him trying to get a clean diaper or a new outfit on him. Or when I am cleaning up yet more puke from him attempting to eat. But those are minor irritations that I get over in about 0.25 seconds - especially when he looks up at me and gives me that big goofy grin of his.
I love this kid more than I knew was humanly possible. To watch his eyes light up when he sees me walk in to daycare to pick him up makes my heart swell. Watching him and J play together in the evening between bathtime and bedtime never fails to bring a smile to my face. I hear his squealing giggles and my head starts to hurt because I am smiling so much.
He is a wonderful baby. He's very happy (unless he's hungry or tired), sweet as can be and about the cutest thing I have ever laid eyes on (though I might be slightly biased!). He's only been here for 9 1/2 months, but it feels like forever. Sometimes I can barely remember what life was like without this amazing little person in it. I think that former life just involved a little more sleep ;)
Anyway, the point of all this is that even with all this happiness and love and amazement on a daily basis, there is always this little nagging fear in the back of my head. The fear that something will go horribly wrong. That we have had it far too easy with him and that our life really is too good to be true. I don't dwell on it or let it put a damper on the fun that I have with the munchkin, but the fear is always there. Sometimes louder than others.
Like now. This week on the bump there was a family who lost their sweet 3 1/2 month old son to SIDS while at daycare on Monday. As I read about it I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. I can't even let my mind go there. The thought of that happening with Andrew is too much to bear.
I know I will always be afraid of him getting hurt - falling down, breaking a bone, getting the bumps, bruises and scratches that are a part of every kid's life. But how do I get past the fear that a broken bone or a bump on the head isn't the worst that could happen?
On most days it doesn't cross my mind. I assume that everything is going to be ok because he is happy and healthy. But some nights when I watch him on the monitor and haven't seen him change positions for a while I still worry. I still go downstairs and peek into his nursery just to see the rising and falling of his chest. To hear him breathing. To know that he is still there and that he is fine.
Last night he woke up after only being down for 90 minutes. On some nights I might have dreaded this. Last night, after reading about the woman who lost her baby, I welcomed the chance to go to him and get a little more snuggle time before bed. I sat there rocking him while he nursed and I wiped away the tears in my eyes. When he was done I picked him up for a little hug and he snuggled down with his head buried in my neck. I wanted to stay like that forever - holding my little munchkin and feeling his warm little body clinging to me.
I love him so much. And I guess with the immense love comes the fear. I know the love will never go away, but when will the fear subside??