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The Fear
The unbearable responsibility of parenthood
Humans don’t start their lives good at breathing. They have their first in-gasp of air within ten seconds of delivery, then white amniotic fluid starts to bubble out of their mouth, clearing the lungs. They breathe exclusively through the nose for the first several months unless there is a problem: stuffiness, blockages, crying.
The way newborns breathe in their sleep is alarming. Whatever you think it sounds like for your baby to suffocate, they make that sound: panting, grunting, long silent pauses. The respiratory system isn’t fully developed. The chest muscles aren’t all there yet. In hospital, I think Robert would have tried to stay up every night to make sure the baby was breathing, if he could.
But you can’t stay up watching the baby sleep and still function enough to care for him in the morning. Very quickly, you have to cope with the fact that baby’s health is not in your full control.
Our baby is coming up on three months old, and he doesn’t feel nearly as delicate. He breathes evenly in his sleep most of the time. He kicks and sucks and wails as needed.
“Do you think it’s safe if he just sleeps on my chest for a while?” Robert asks.
It’s a sweet pose: belly to belly, arms around each other. Robert’s chest is a still…
