While I was writing that post last night Gary headed up to bed. I handed Molly off and asked him to deliver her to bed. And by "bed" I meant HER bed, in the bassinet, which is next to MY bed. I finished writing and headed up myself, only to find Miss Molly snuggled up in my spot, in my bed.
"What happend?" I asked. "I thought you were going to put her to bed?"
"I got nervous," he answered. "I wanted to be able to see her."
I admitted that I had my own little freak out recently, and told him the details. He was HORRIFIED that I didn't let him freak out with me. Gary is always asking me if she is breathing and I am always telling him that "OF COURSE SHE IS BREATHING!" And in my head: "I do not want to be thinking about this!"
He does this with other things as well. "Is that child going to choke on that gum?" ("Boy I hope not!") "Don't be silly!" In fact, in our relationship I tend to under react to temper his over reactions. Like the time Joshua was having an anaphalatic reaction...but that's another story.
"So when we were out walking and I kept asking you if she was okay and you made it sound like I was overreacting..."
Yes, Gary was overreacting. Not me. I wasn't overreacting. I was freaking out!
I moved Molly into her bassinet where she slept soundly until precisely two seconds after I fell asleep. Then she woke, hungry. I picker her up and mumbled something about terrible timing and how unfair this lack of sleep is to me. Then I held her close as she nursed, her sweet little perfect chubby face pressed against my breast. I am in heaven, so in love with this perfect little being.