A few days ago, I woke up in the middle of the night. I checked on Baby AJ, and I noticed I couldn’t hear his adorable little snore that I normally hear while he is asleep. I think it’s adorable right now. If he’s like me, someday he’ll have a college roommate that tries desperately to fall asleep before him, because the roommate knows once the snoring starts, falling asleep will be impossible. Then the roommate will have to resort to throwing things at him to wake him up and immediately start the race again.
When I checked on AJ, his face was buried in his pillow. I got worried, and turned his head to make sure that he was breathing okay. What was my reward, you may ask? AJ woke up, looked at me with a fire of rage and passion in his eyes, and screamed at me for the next three hours. What, you ask, was I thinking waking up a 1.5 year old at 2am just a few hours before I had to be at work? SIDs.
SIDs is a real thing and can be dangerous, and this writing is not meant in any way to take away from that danger or the impact SIDs has had on many families. For more information, on SIDS, see more info HERE.
My kid is 1.5 years old, and his body is plenty strong enough to pick up his head if he is having trouble breathing. And I know that. I am typically a rational person. But if there’s one thing that the well-meaning nurses at the hospital taught me when AJ was born was that he would definitely die from SIDs. In fact, based on what they told me, it’s hard to imagine that the human race still exists considering that every baby will die from SIDs.
I tried asking them other questions. “What if my baby escapes the death grip of SIDs?” After several minutes of hearty guffawing, they would simply walk out of the room to go tell other nurses about the hopelessly optimistic father in room 330. So for now, I am enjoying my remaining time with AJ, before the SIDs inevitably get him. I try not to let the anxiety of his impending doom stress me out too much.