Frightmares

Last night Jake's parents babysat Grant while we went to see Celtic Woman in concert (wahoo!!!) and by the time we got out of the parking lot and drove back to American Fork, it was almost 11:30. We've never experimented with putting him to bed at someone else's house, but it worked out really well. We transplanted him into his crib and hit the sack.

Around 3 a.m., I heard Grant's yelping and gasping. He's had a cold lately, but this wasn't his usual stuffiness. I never knew I could wake up, throw the covers back, and jump out of my bed so quickly! Now I sort of understand the whole protective-mom-adrenaline thing. When I picked him up, I realized he was struggling to get air through his nose, then his throat, but that he couldn't. It took about four seconds for him to take a breath, and then every thirty seconds or so it would all happen again. His eyes would start to look panicky and frightened every time, and he would writhe in my arms. I tried everything I knew to do. After a scary half hour, I started hearing an improvement in his breathing, and he fell asleep. I rocked him for quite some time before I felt like it was safe to lay him back down. Poor little guy!

I never felt it was dangerous, just scary, but I could tell we weren't alone in that little bedroom last night. That's pretty much the only reason I ever went back to bed.

I'm so relieved to know Jake and I aren't the only ones watching over him during his time on this earth.