Rachel had a pretty rough night last night. Her schedule, however pitiful it was beforehand, has been completely thrown off. She fell asleep around 10 PM last night and wasn't very happy about having to do it.
We stayed up playing games and didn't go to bed until around 11:30. We were exhausted from having spent all day--eight hours--at the beach yesterday and fell asleep relatively quickly.
I was rudely awakened, however, at 1:30 by a completely inconsolable Rachel. I dragged her out of her crib and into her bed. I nursed her until she fell asleep, I think. I fell asleep before she did, but I had a lovely dream that I put her back into her bed. Oh, and that we'd already moved to Cairo and went shopping for clothes at DI because Andrew forgot to pack any clothes for us.
That part didn't feel very real, but the part where I put Rachel into her bed did feel real.
So this morning when I woke up, rolled over, and peeked into Rachel's bed, she wasn't there. I completely flipped out.
My pulse started racing and I was breathing heavily. I took one last scan of the crib, throwing blankets aside in a passionate hurry.
She was not in her crib.
I rolled over, tears already welling up in my eyes, to tell Andrew that Rachel was missing.
He woke up to me gulping in some fresh air and then sighing my relief. There was little Rachel, snuggled up to him, as safe as could be.
Needless to say it took me a few minutes to recover from my shock, but we're all ok now.