Monday, August 28, 2006
A little thing that freaks me out
I think she was 6 days old in this picture. I thought I would be so great at remembering the dates and whatnot but since I am currently lucky I remember the names of all four children (but not necessarily calling the right child by the right name) the chances of actually remembering dates is slim to none. The date is set on the camera, but I have no idea how to retrieve it. So I just think she was 6 days old. But she could have been 7, as her one week photos immediately follow this one. Ack! Tis driving me crazy! Must figure out camera.
But on to what freaks me out.
Sophie falls asleep in my arms. Like most mothers, I am sure, sometimes I just sit and stare at her. Sometimes, though, I read. It is the only chance I get these days. She quite often opens her eyes a wee bit and I watch her eyeballs roll back in her head. I know all babies do this, I assume that we all do it in our sleep. But it totally freaks me out. To the point where I make sure the phone is near by so that if I have to call 911 I can do it quickly.
Stupid? Yes. Irrational? Totally.
In my head I know she is fine. But every single time she does it I think of a girl I was friendly with years ago. She had a little boy, Matthew, back in October of 1998. I visited with her in the hospital the evening of the day he was born. She was eager to get home the next day as they had a 2 year old daughter she was missing. I said that I would take every moment they would let me stay. That's just me, I think, I rather enjoy being in the hospital. Excluding the fact that youget no sleep it's actually rather peaceful.
She went home the day after Matthew was born and all was fine. The next morning, at around 7.30, when he was exactly 48 hours old, she was holding him in her arms when his eyes rolled back in his head. I can not remember what else happened to him for her to know there was something wrong, there might have been something, there might not have. I only remember her saying "His eyes rolled right back in his head" as we talked on the phone, both of us crying. She called her husband, they called an ambulance, they tried to revive him on the kitchen table. He was pronounced dead at the hospital. I often wonder if he would have survived had they still been in the hospital.
Anyway, this is what I think of everytime I see Sophie's eyes start to roll. I know it's not going to happen to us, but I can't help thinking it. And every time she closes her eyes, and continues on with her steady (and somewhat noisy) breathing, I myself breathe a sigh of relief.