Lost

We had lived in our new (much bigger) house for just about a month the first time I lost one of the boys.

I realized it had been a few minutes since I saw Carson so I called for him. And he didn't answer. And I kept calling him, getting progressively louder, and he didn't answer. So I ran around the main floor of the house, opening doors and looking in closets, and YELLING.

Then I ran upstairs, then back to the first floor (again), then down to the basement. And I am fully panicking. I'm screaming for Carver to help me look, I ran outside yelling for him. And went back inside one more time, and found him....

In his own bed. Fully covered with his blanket. At 5:00 p.m.

So my youngest son, who hasn't napped regularly in the last year, who is NOT a heavy sleeper, somehow managed to not hear me screaming for him while tearing through the house like a crazy person.

It was probably the most terrifying 4 minutes of my life.

Utterly terrifying.

And such a reminder of how scary parenting is. How paralyzing it is to "lose" a child, even for  4 minutes.

When I saw him sleeping I felt a flood of relief so powerful it almost brought me to my knees. And I felt overwhelming fear-- because losing a child is something that could happen to me. It could happen to anyone. And I felt thankful that this episode only lasted a few moments.

Parenting is scary and every single day I experience the whole spectrum of emotions. This was a particularly hard one.