Quickies

I am going to do this really quickly, while Apollo is doing tummy time and I want to talk about sleeping arrangements.

I just woke him up because I was checking to see if he was breathing, and making sure he had enough air flow. So I will have to write this to a melody of grunts and squeaks, collectively what we call "cranks." I have learned that part of being a mother is being forced to listen to stories about babies dying, being hurt, or being killed. Perhaps I had heard these stories before, but now they turn my insides to ice, and I remember them. One woman just lost her 6 month old to SIDS, and was told it was because one of the parents was sharing a couch with the sleeping infant--no rolling over, no burying of face; proximity was the only cause. This is horribly sad, and I would probably have to be locked in an institution if it happened to me, but since she is still alive to talk about it, she must be an incredibly strong and (emotionally) well-supported person.

We need to be afraid of everything. Even the things babies want most--warmth, a cozy place to sleep, the closeness of a parent--could harm them. I asked my doctor, half joking, if I should just keep Baby Apollo in a dog cage, and he said that might be the safest place.  A million times a day I have to choose whether to give in to love or fear (and, yes, sometimes sleepiness. Love says pick him up, sleep with him, let him eat as much as he wants. Fear says keep him in his crib, don't overfeed--Apollo is FAT-- don't spoil.

But most times I just give in to sleepiness and attach him to my boob, put my arm behind him so I can't roll over on him, and go back to sleep.

But this sleeping arrangement hasn't been very good for my sex life. I look at Husband from the other side of a bed that is at once too small and to vast of a space for intimacy.