On being a neurotic mother...

My lovely husband has said that I must blog about this and I guess he's right, if only to make me understand how nonsensical my actions were.
Last night Reuben had a meal at 9.15pm. It's an hour or so earlier than normal but he was really hungry and so he ate. Normally he would then wake up 4-5 hours later. So when I woke up at 3.15am and he still hadn't woken me up i sprang out of bed and dashed in to make sure he was ok. He was so utterly asleep that it was actually quite hard to make him move when I poked him to see if he was still alive. I then thought he'd wake up soon so lay down to snooze on the make-shift bed we have in his room until he woke up and waited... and waited... and waited. An hour and no more sleep later he still hadn't woken up so I went in to tell Tom (as he re-phrased it this morning) that our son was breathing and asleep. Not best pleased. So then I spent an agonising other 45 minutes waiting and waiting and trying not to get stressed and paranoid and fearful. Eventually I went to sleep around 6 and then proceeded to have nightmares when he's been abducted in a lorry and Tom and I were trying to find him before he died of hunger, having slipped into a hunger-induced coma and being unable to cry to let us know where he was.

I am very tired today and hoping that when he next decided to sleep that long (I'm sure 5 week old babies aren't meant to be able to do that yet) I will be able to rest assured that he has done it before and will be able to do it again.