Writing While The Horror Is Still Fresh

I woke at 4 AM and made my way to the bathroom to do things one does in the bathroom at 4 AM. On my way I stopped to check on my little girl and noted that, for the first time, she had flipped herself onto her stomach while sleeping. This made me a little bit nervous but I figured that she'd be fine; once they start flipping themselves over at night there's really not much you can do about it and besides, she's demonstrated time and time again that she's capable of flipping herself back onto her back if she wants to.

I did my thing in the bathroom and went to bed, still nervous but trying to be okay with things.

Apparently I was more nervous than okay. I woke at 4:15, 4:25, 4:40, and finally at about 5:12. This last time I woke with an impending sense of doom and had to go check on my daughter. I got up quietly and crept out of the room, feeling slightly foolish.

She was face-down in the crib, her little face smashed flat into the mattress.

The only reason I didn't panic immediately was I heard her struggle to draw in a deep breath. However, she remained face down, not self-correcting so that she could breath normally.

I flipped her onto her back* and put my hand gently on her chest, which usually soothes her to sleep. Her little heart was beating faster than a hummingbird's and she sucked in a lungful of air several times.

I'm awake now, as is Mommy, and as is baby. We're all sitting on the couch, tired and wanting to go back to bed. Well, "all" being me and Mommy, with the little girl happy to be awake, making noise, trying to pull Mommy's nose or lips off.

We'll be strapping her into her carseat to sleep for the next five or eighteen months. This is an acceptable solution, right?

*Gently. Not like, ninja-kick-flip style like I wanted to.