Scare of a lifetime

I had a horrible horrible experience this morning. Horrible. Terrifying.

Porter woke up around 5:30am, crying.  He has been such a bad sleeper since he’s been sick (I think I write this everytime he’s sick).  He was up last night from 9:30 to midnight… and then at 5:30am, up crying.  Normally, I have Ryan just give him a bottle and he drinks it in his bed and goes back to sleep on his own.  However, I was just so fed up with him waking, that I decided this was it… no more bottles until 7am, like he normally gets.  No more picking him up when he cries in the night… he can get his butt patted or back rubbed, but he stays in bed.  So… I attempted my new "tough love" techniques (probably brought on more by my lack of sleep than rational thought…) and they didn’t get too far.

Porter was having a fit.  I went to get him a cup of water, thinking maybe he was thirsty.  (ok… this story is getting long).  He grabbed it up, but then realized it wasn’t the bottle he expected.  I ended up picking him up and trying to rock him (after over half an hour of trying to calm him in his bed).  At this point I was FED UP.  He would not stop crying, I go to the point where I YELLED at him… I mean, YELLED.  "STOP!  PORTER STOP!!!" I contemplated throwing him in bed and thought to myself "I know why some parents beat their children". 

Horrible thoughts.

So, he finally calmed down, and relaxed… I put his boppy pillow in his crib- thinking I’d lay him in it and he’d feel kind of cozy.  I covered him up and closed his door. He woke again and continued his fit for at least another 15 minutes. At this point it was 6:3am. I went to sleep and set my alarm for 7:30 so I could get him up at his normal time.

As I walked to his room at 7:30am, the thought crossed my mind "What if I found him dead? What if he’d smothered or died screaming?"

I walked into his room, it was still dusky (is that a word) and dark in the house.  I walked to his crib, he was on his back (he never sleeps on his back) and his feet were against the crib rails, and he looked pale, and dead.

I felt his face… cold.  I screamed.  I screamed a horrible scream I never want to scream again. 

I grabbed him by his arms, he was limp. 

I yanked him out of bed screaming "PORTER!!" and as I pulled him to my chest he started to wake.

I remember thinking "I have to get him to breath before he dies all the way" (what??)

He was alive… he had been breathing the whole time (in fact, I’m quite sure he was limp because he WAS ASLEEP haha!). 

But oh my freaking god, I cried and cried and hugged him and felt so weak and sick.  What a horrible feeling to feel… even for just the 5 seconds I felt it. 

Since Teegan passed away, I am constantly terrified that I’ll find Porter dead, and I think the fact that I lost it with him when he was crying earlier made me so guilty.  I am constantly thinking of Sarah and her family, and how horrible it must have been to find your child no longer alive.  I got a short glimpse of that feeling today, and it was horrible.  Absolutely terrifying. 

So, I’ve been snuggling him today, we’ve rocked and cuddled and read books before his naps, he’s gotten lots of extra kisses and "I Love You’s" too.   Everything can change in an instant.