My Bassinet to Crib Panic Attack

I buried part of my innocence when I buried my baby boy.

I wish that I hadn’t.

Before Luca died two years ago, I was naively optimistic about the world. I was certain that nothing bad or difficult would come my way.

Boy, were my eyes opened the night I found out I would have to deliver him after he had already died. Bad things happen to good people, and I will never see the world the same again.

But I thought things were going better for me recently. That having a rainbow baby had once again instilled hope into my life.

I didn’t realize how scared I still was that something might go wrong again for me — until we tried having our new baby sleep in his crib, in a room down the hall.

I thought I was ready to move him, my two-and-a-half-month-old good night sleeper, into a bedroom with his two oldest brothers. But after a 2 a.m. panic attack the second night of having him out of my room, I knew it was too soon.

I pushed my husband out of bed, made him go grab our baby and bring him back to me. I was scared to death that something had happened to him.

Seriously? It’s crazy how much I still worry that something is going to happen to my living children. I have some major posttraumatic stress when it comes to my kids.

Having a new baby has given me hope, but that hope hasn’t quite extinguished all of my fear.

I guess I didn’t realize how many times a night I reach over his bassinet wall to feel the rise and fall of his chest, or lean over to brush my ear near his nose to hear the in and out of his breath. Having him near — close enough to physically feel that he is still alive — has comforted me more times than I realized.

So after one and a half nights in his crib, he is now back in the bassinet by the side of my bed. I know that eventually I am going to have to move him to the other room permanently — heaven knows he’s getting nearly too big for his little bed. But I don’t know how I am going to do it.

How am I going to put my mind at ease? How will I keep from waking and worrying a dozen times a night when he’s not next to me?

Gosh I hate that I have these feelings. I hate that anyone has to go through hard times.  I wish I could go back to the days when I was positive that everything would work out the way I wanted it to.

But I don’t think I will ever be able to go back to those days. And I wouldn’t trade having Luca for anything. He may have died, but he is still, and will always be, my baby.

I just wish he were still here with me, and ultimately that his death hadn’t shattered my rose colored glasses and left me worrying about what big trial I am going to have to face next.

I wish I could have held onto my everything-in-the-world-is-amazing positive attitude a little bit longer. Then maybe I could sleep easier at night.

1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Elise
    Oct 05, 2012 @ 09:49:00

    I kept Davis in his bassinet next to our bed until he was 6 months old… He touched both ends and was definitely flirting with the weight limit. I couldn’t handle having the other two in the same room with me longer than 2 days (all their little movements and grunts kept me up all night), but I struggled when we finally put Davis in the crib (those same things helped me sleep better with him). No need to worry yourself unnecessarily – Ross can stay with you longer.


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