A few hours after Eva was born, Andrew was asleep on the couch and I, full of the energy that comes after giving birth, was bored and wanted to hold our little baby. I couldn't get up very well though, so I decided to get Andrew to bring her to me. After whispering, then calling, then yelling his name at least 78 times, he finally came to consciousness enough to hear me. He got up and I realized he wasn't fully awake. But he picked up little Eva and shuffled over to me. I had my arms out waiting for him to gently set our sleeping baby there. But that isn't what happened. He got close enough, held her out, and dropped our newborn from a couple feet above my waiting arms. Luckily, I caught her. But I was LIVID with him. Not that he remembers this, because he was pretty much sleep walking. But I still give him a hard time about how he almost killed our brand new baby simply because he is a deep sleeper.
Since that day, I have often wondered what would happen if someone were to break into our house at night and try to kill Eva or me. Would Andrew be able to wake himself up enough to fight off the bad guy and save his family? What about a fire? Would I be able to shake him to get him up in time to grab Eva, all my scrapbooks, and the hard drive from the computer in enough time before our house burns to the ground? These are concerns that have often plagued me, and I have recently expressed my fears to him. Of course, with dismissal--"Of course I would be awake enough!" Well, considering his track record, that is hard to believe.
That is, until the other night. It was Friday night (or rather, Saturday morning about 3am), and all of us were fast asleep in our beds, dreaming peacefully. (Wait, I NEVER dream peacefully. I'm sure in my dream I was discovering that my sister had come home from her mission without telling any of us, or that my mom all of a sudden became a chain smoker. But never mind that.) Suddenly, we are both awakened instantly by a SHRIEK, followed immediately by a terrified cry. I had barely registered what was happening and hardly had time to think about what was going on before Andrew had bolted out of bed and ran into Eva's room. I was positive she had somehow fallen out of her crib, or gotten stabbed, or something horrible. I got in there a little slower (I'm getting bigger by the day, unfortunately) and we both tried to calm her down. I still don't know what caused her to scream like that. She wasn't hurt or bleeding anywhere, and her crib was still intact. It must have been a bad dream (wonder which parent she inherited that from?) or something.
Although I felt bad for Eva, I was so grateful to have had a chance to see Andrew react to a middle-of-the-night emergency. He was so fast and awake that I have to say, I'm no longer worried for my safety if something REALLY bad happens. He'll be able to save my life just fine, no matter what time of the night it is. I'm so relieved.