Nighttime Thoughts

Although I knew he boys were sick during the day, the only sign of it was increased irritability. At the smallest thing they broke down crying. Whether Ben couldn't bear not finding a sword for his play-mobile knight (who was really a superhero) or Sam not being able to put on his shirt by himself there was a regular flow of tears. Although perhaps unusual, there was nothing alarming. On the contrary, these frequent outbursts were a little less than exasperating. At least I had work to do on campus—poor Katie without escape left the boys to my care promptly upon my return home.

Luckily, the boys are at that age that a good action filled cartoon like Batman keeps them completely engrossed, resting, and quiet. Besides, I share in their affinity for the caped crusader, especially his latest incarnation in the Brave and the Bold.

There was no trouble until bedtime. Getting ready for bed did not take longer than usual. After the normal routine, the boys were in bed and then asleep. Here is where the trouble began. Their breathing, unnoticed during the day, was wheezing and difficult at night. They coughed, and woke because they could not breathe through their noses.

I tried placing an extra pillow under them, hoping that if they slept a little more sitting up it would free their breathing. But when this didn't wake them up it only lasted a few minutes as they shifted off the incline to the point of using no pillow at all. Sleeping sitting up is unnatural for everyone. And imagine how I felt when the extra pillow caused them to fall out of bed!

I had to leave their room after brief and frequent visits while they slept to keep from thinking horrible thoughts. If only I could breathe for them or be sick instead of them—impossible, but such are the desires of a novice father. As a direct result of my horrible thoughts, I slept horribly. At the slightest the sound I got out of bed to check on my little boys. Only the morning broke my fitful vigil.

Now that it is day and the boys act better (not behave better), it is hard to explain those nighttime terrors that raced through my heart. I sheepishly write this down since I know there are plenty of parents in more dangerous and trying conditions I do not dare imagine. But these boys are mine, and I have some right to worry.