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There's something about being a parent that causes me to worry about my kids all the time. Last night I was downstairs folding laundry, because that's the exciting lifestyle I lead now. We had just put the kids to bed, when all of a sudden I hear a thunderous boom and the rattle of the ceiling above me, followed by the piercing scream that only a two year old can produce. Immediately I knew what happened. A picture of the new dresser we put in the boy's room ran through my mind's eye. However the dresser was not in its upright position, the sound came from the toppling over of said dresser. Which would obviously mean that the piercing screams were emanating from my son now trapped and probably crushed beneath the dresser. Cue panic and terror.
Springing from my laundry perch, I bolted up the stairs taking 4 steps at a time. Certain that I would need to heave the piece of furniture off of my son, I recalled those stories of mothers lifting cars off of their children in a rush of adrenaline...that's a thing right? As I kicked down the door like a DEA agent busting up a meth lab, I saw my son, safe but scared, standing on his bed tears flooding down his face. He was terrified at what he had done. It was like an episode of Maury Povich where they send troubled teens to prison in an attempt to scare them straight, by giving them a glimpse at the probable outcome to their poor life choices. Hopefully my son has been scared straight out of climbing furniture.
After I calmed my son down, which consisted of laying him down to sleep in our bed, I sat and reflected on the experience. I was reminded of how often I would check to make sure that my kids were still breathing when they were infants. Sneaking into their rooms when it seemed they had napped for an inordinate amount of time, I would get down on my knees so their chests and my eyes were on the same level. I would watch intently to make sure I saw the rise and fall of their chests, ensuring myself that my precious babies were in fact still breathing.
I swear I did these types of breathing checks multiple times a day. Call it what you will, paranoia, new parent anxiety, or ignorance. Nevertheless, I developed a few techniques to assuage my fears of un-breathing babies. One is the aforementioned eye test, however there are times when the peaceful slumber of a child results in shallow and nearly imperceptible breaths. In these instances it is necessary to use the mirror method. Take a small mirror and place it adjacent to the child's nostrils or open mouth, if you see the mirror fog up then you can rest assured that the child is in fact breathing. The ear test works best when your child is suffering from some nasal congestion, as their breathing becomes heavier and more pronounced. If all else fails I will recommend the nudge method, however this comes with a caveat and a pretty steep downside. You always run the risk of actually waking your child up if you choose to nudge them to see if they are still breathing. It cannot be emphasized enough that you must use a delicate and deft touch as you gently push, prod, or poke your sleeping child. Apply enough pressure to cause your infant to react in a manner that lets you know they're breathing, but not so much pressure that they wake up and cut into your Netflix time.
I reckon I'll never stop checking to see if my kids are still breathing. When my son skins his knee and scrapes his hand after the training wheels come off his Huffy, I will pick him up and check to make sure he's still breathing. When my daughter comes home crying because of something mean someone at school said about her, I will check to make sure she's still breathing. When my boy comes home with a busted lip, because he stood up to the school bully, I'll check to make sure he's still breathing. When my girls are teenagers and some stupid boy breaks their heart, I will check to make sure they are still breathing. When my sons don't make the team or perhaps drop the game winning pass, I will check to see if they're still breathing. When my children get an acceptance letter to their first choice college, or a "...we're sorry to inform you" letter from their first choice college, I will check to see if they're still breathing. When my son says to me, "Dad, I think she's the one.", I'll check to make sure he's still breathing. When I have to stand before a crowd of people, holding my daughters hand and say, "Her mother and I do...", I will kiss her cheek and check to make sure she's still breathing. When my son calls me up and says, "Dad it's a boy...", I will check to make sure he's still breathing.
Perhaps we check to see if our kids are still breathing, not because we worry about them, but because we want the very best that life has to offer for them.
