Last night was the first night I can remember being kept awake from worry for no reason. Eirinn isn’t sick, she isn’t teething, she didn’t fall down the stairs and suffer a concussion, I was just worried. I wanted her to be near me, in the same room, within reach. I felt like getting out of bed and sleeping by her door. Not the outside of her door, but in her room so that I could see her and hear her and make sure no one could creep into her room and steal her. I was having visions of her being kidnapped and harmed and not being able to help her. I was imagining how much mommy-strength I could muster if I would be required to use it. I was wide-eyed and couldn’t sleep from the unreasonable and (mostly) unprovoked panic.
We watched a stupid movie right before bed. It was the typical horror movie, with the same plot as half the horror movies already produced. Big town family lifts up and moves to a frightening, ominous-looking farmhouse with no neighbours within screaming distance and a horrid past. Could the house be evil? It had scenes of implied harm done to a small boy, to put it mildly, and these scenes are what sent my imagination reeling.
Eirinn has been out of our room since she was 2 months old. She doesn’t sleep in our bed, ever (save one desperate night at the trailer when I needed just…one…more…hour). However, with my frantic anxiety I was ready to reconstruct our walk-in closet into her new, slightly smaller but much closer and therefore better, nursery.
By this morning, I was fine. She’s now napping in her own, original room, without me standing over her. And I’m fine. I got over it. I’m sure I’ll have many more moments of panic in the future. When she goes to school, or her first sleepover, her first date, dropping her off at university, etc, etc, forever and ever.