Instincts.

Call it evolution, survival of the fittest, mother's instincts...

But last night, I experienced for the first time what happens in the mind, heart, and body of a mother who believes that her baby is in danger.

And it was not pretty.

Riggs is still sleeping in a cradle next to our bed, thus allowing us [and by us, I mean ME...but that's another post!] to hear every little peep out of our wee babe's mouth. And out of other orifices, but that too is another post.

For the most part, when this little guy wakes up in the night, it begins with a coo here or a grunt there, gradually working up to a real cry if I don't answer him soon enough. But last night was different.

Riggs went down around 8 p.m. Jonathan gave him a "dream feeding" before we hit the sack at 11 p.m. And then, at 1:30 a.m. we were awakened by the most horrible sound I have ever heard in my life. My baby, screaming a scream I had never heard before.

There was no lead-in, no warm-up, no warning. It was at a pitch, volume, and duration that was unmatched in his almost-3-month life. It was a scream of terror and pain that no shot or gas bubble had ever brought out of my little boy.

I instantly sat up, and for an instant I was frozen, staring down at my little baby just screaming, that's when I noticed Jonathan looking over my shoulder, just as terrified. He snapped-to first, and told me to pick him up. And that's when my instincts kicked in.

I scooped up my baby, clutched him close to my body, and then searched him all over. By this point, the scream had stopped with a quick inhale of his little breath, and there was a pause before he dissolved in the saddest cries I have ever heard. He was so, so scared.

And so was I.

That's when I heard Jonathan's voice saying, "Breathe, Leslie...just breathe and he will breathe with you." Sure enough, as I held him close, Riggins and I both relaxed.

It was only then that I realized that my body had immediately gone to a place it had never been before. My heart was racing. My breath was short. My mouth was dry. My entire body was hot and sweating. My eyes were full of tears. I felt like a wild animal, completely brought down to the most basic level, only caring about making sure my baby was safe.

Before long, Riggs settled down and went back to sleep. And I just laid there, still shaky, still worrying, still thinking about what a bizarre feeling that was.

In some ways, it reminded me of the little scare that I had during pregnancy. There are just certain moments when it hits me that I am his mother and that at the very core of my being is an instinct that I will never understand: a desperate desire to keep my baby safe, healthy, thriving, happy. And when that gets threatened, you do not want to mess with the part-Mama Bear, part-Jack Bauer combo that is gonna get unleashed on your tail. ;)

[Speaking of threatened, you will all be glad to know that we now have a peep hole, thanks to my dear hubby and brother-in-law. Handy guys, those two!]

And now for the comments...have any of you moms had an experience with an infant screaming bloody murder out of nowhere like this? It almost reminded me of the night terrors that I studied back in my psychology days. I have almost laughed about it several times today in retrospect, and I would pay good money if we had video of Jonathan and me in that moment, but I am still kinda curious about what would cause such a thing. Sleep-cycle disturbance, perhaps?

Do tell...