If Only I Were Taller

My husband is a sleeper. I don’t mean sleeper terrorist, I mean someone who enjoys sleep more than most other things in his life. He can sleep through almost anything, including crying babies to a small degree. I worried when he decided that we should expand our family that him giving up sleep wouldn’t happen. The first week home from the hospital I realized how wrong I was. He got up and was willing to help at any hour of the night. Then he went back to work, but would get up when he thought I needed help to jump right in. That man was born to be a father.

In our baby’s first six months, we’re lucky he only had one or two colds. Both only lasted a day or two without any incidence. He basically is his father’s baby and just slept right through the whole thing. The only fever he’s ever had was after he received his vaccines, and even then he just slept right through it. He’s a baby that tolerates most things well, even teething he had a few bad days, but it could have been a lot worse.

That all changed last night when I woke up to a cry I’ve never heard before. As soon as I picked up my little crying boy, I realized he was on fire, figuratively speaking of course. My husband was sleeping, and I went to get the Tylenol, only I couldn’t reach it in the cabinet, I couldn’t even see it. I didn’t want to have to wake up my husband, not just because he gets grumpy when he’s tired but because he’s a worrier. I love that about him; he’s the type of guy that when you get a nasty sunburn because you’re as pale as a ghost and thought that 35 SPF was enough, would buy out the entire section of burn care to fix you. I woke him up asking for him to get the Tylenol, and he wanted to hold the baby because he thought maybe I was wrong. As soon as our boy was in his arms, he handed him off and jumped out of bed and ran to get the medicine.

I was right about the worrying, every noise that came from the crib after that moment, he would immediate sit up and see if the baby was okay. He worried that we should have quarantined patient 0, our oldest son, to have prevented this. Either way, the baby was going to get sick because I was starting to get sick myself. It’s no fun when there are sick kids at home, and it really tests you. I’m lucky I have a partner in this that will make you take a nap while making us supper and making sure the boys are fed. I’m grateful he’s a great father and husband and I know not everyone is as fortunate to have someone to help you through even the simple things. I also learned a valuable lesson: I should move the medicines our kids use on shelves I can reach without climbing on countertops. Climbing isn’t easy with an infant in your arms.

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