Charting the Unknown by Kim Petersen Read Free Book Online Page A

instantly asleep.
    Vaguely I sensed daylight. My eyes opened and I was looking directly at the digital alarm clock on the night table. Its numbers read 7 a.m. I bolted upright and said out loud, “She slept through the rest of the night!”
    Mike shifted next to me.
    â€œWhat time were you up with her?” I asked urgently, shaking his arm.
    â€œAround 1 a.m.,” he mumbled.
    â€œFantastic!” I said.
    Past experience with Lauren had indicated that once infants started sleeping more than five or six hours a night there was a good chance it would became a habit. I was elated. I walked happily out to the kitchen to make coffee. Lauren followed a few minutes later. We sat together on a chair and enjoyed a bowl of Cheerios. I told her it was Sunday and she would have to put on a dress for church. This came as good news, and she immediately slid from my lap and returned to her room to make a selection.
    I walked past Bethany's room and paused to listen for stirring noises, but she slept on. No sense in waking her. I continued down the short hallway and poked my head into Lauren's room to tell that I was going to take a shower.
    â€œIf you need anything, wake Daddy,” I told her.
    I enjoyed a luxurious and lengthy shower for the first time in weeks. With Bethany sleeping through the night, we were entering a new stage. More sleep equaled more sanity, which equaled a healthier, less crazy me. While the water gently pelted my skin, I sang a robust rendition of the Hallelujah Chorus. I got dressed. Mike was now up, eating breakfast, and admiring Lauren's choice of outfit. There was still no evidence that Bethany was waking up, so I went ahead and dried my hair and put on makeup. Mike hopped in the shower.
    I checked the clock in the kitchen and realized it was getting late. I still had to feed Beth before church, so I pushed open the door of her room. There was a slight gush of cool air. I hoped she had been warm enough. I approached her crib. Her small body came into view. She was lying on her stomach, face down on the mattress. My insides constricted. I hung back, my hands clutching the crib railing, and studied her back for breathing movement. I told myself to be calm. She was still. I extended both hands and placed them flat on her torso and waited. There was no movement. I gently picked her up and as I looked into her face, experienced a dreadful knowing. Oh God.
    Instinct kicked in. While choking back sobs, my lifeguard training took over and I checked for vitals, lifted her chin, yelled for Mike, and began CPR. I had never given an infant CPR, and was concerned in my desperation not to push too hard or that all my air would end up in her stomach. Mike appeared in the doorway, dripping, with a towel around him, and ran to call 911. He returned to hover next to me, holding her small wrist to catch a pulse. After several minutes, I looked up from her into Mikes eyes.
    â€œThere are no signs of life…she's not breathing,” I said.
    I kept on giving CPR. Tears streamed down both our faces cheeks. I heard the wail of the ambulance and for the first time, it stopped at my house.

5
    I remember swimming in a brown lake in Wisconsin. I was 12 or 13 and we were visiting extended family. Second cousins who I didn't know shouted and splashed in the water around me. To avoid their antics, I swam out into deeper, cooler water. Diving like a whale, my feet rising slowly upward, breaking the surface, my frame perpendicular to the muddy bottom below, I sunk down and let the silence engulf me. Back then I didn't like to open my eyes underwater, so I swam blindly into the deep, relishing the sensation, going deeper and deeper, until I remembered I had lungs and put myself in reverse. I opened my eyes, squinting through murky water, to find that the surface was further away than I had anticipated. Panicked, I swam as fast as I could, struggling and thrashing as my chest began to burn, but there was no way to go