I just had the strangest experience. For the third or fourth time.
Mike was gone for the afternoon, leaving me with the kiddos right around nap time. He put Liv to bed in her room, and Matt was still asleep in his carseat from our outing to the park. I settled in for some Saturday afternoon movie-watching.
About half an hour into this restful break, Matt began to stir, and I prepped a bottle for his "second lunch". I propped up the pillows just so, grabbed a burp cloth, and we both snuggled in for his feeding. We sat there, both quite content, watching The King's Speech.
The whole house was still.
I was pretty sucked into the movie until I realized how loud Colin Firth was screaming obscenities to overcome his stutter. I quickly grabbed the remote to hush him.
And then I realized...
I had not been worried about the noise bothering Matt. He was awake, eating happily. I hadn't been worried about Liv, either. She could sleep through an air-raid siren.
I was honestly worried the movie might wake up Carpenter. I was concerned to the point that my eyes shot down to the baby swing to see if he had been disturbed.
Obviously my conscious knows he's not sleeping in the baby swing. I know the volume can't be too loud for his ears. But a handful of times in the past two weeks, I've had a snap moment where it felt like he was right there, just like the other two. Not just "there" like he could be in spirit. "There" as in physically, alive, and needing me. "There" as in I had to stop and count heads of living children to shock myself back into reality.
Of course, these momentary scares (hopes?) make me wonder...
Was he there?