Maybe "veteran" parent wasn't the right word in the last post. As a new parent, it was like I didn't trust my son to survive. I read books; I watched his chest to make sure he was breathing; I counted every ounce he drank. Now, I wonder if I'll survive!
This morning, Shane woke me up at 5 AM. Carrie was still asleep, because she'd fallen into a NyQuil induced coma on the couch downstairs. The tone of Shane's cries weren't hungry or hurt, but he was definitely unhappy. I didn't go into his room at first, because his cry was intermittent and I was worried that opening the door would fully wake him if he was slipping in and out of consciousness. Truthfully, I was also dead tired and praying that he would go back to sleep so that I could follow suit. Eventually, I went in and his room felt colder than I expected. I slipped some socks on him, an extra pair of pants, and then sat rubbing his back until he went back to sleep...sort of. He would doze off and on but he'd make enough noise that I never got back to sleep while listening to him on the intercom. Around 6:15 AM I went downstairs to make a bottle and fully wake the boy up. His hands were cold, so it must be time to switch my A/C frame of mind from cool to heat.
As a new parent, I would've been panicking. As an at least somewhat experienced parent, I was hoping I could snatch five more z's before the boy needed me. Hence, the "I used to worry he wouldn't make it" to the "and now I wonder if I'll make it." I don't know when the flip happened, but happen it did!
Seriously, the boy is worth it all. Even when I'm exhausted, when he smiles I can't help but be filled with pride and a sense of accomplishment. Hopefully, I'll live long enough to enjoy many more years of it....at least until the teenage years. Then I'll really wonder if I'm going to make it through parenting sanity intact!
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