Simon could not sleep. His tiny body was wracked with hoarse coughing
from the time I had put him down, and all I could do was continue
turning the humidifier up and prop his pillows higher and higher.
Eventually, he fell into a deep and exhausted sleep, and, with him
finally being able to rest, I fell asleep as well.
Some time later, I heard a voice calling me, urgently, "Alison,
wake up, wake up." I awoke, and immediately reached for Simon. Simon
was not breathing. His skin was cold and clammy, and he had no pulse.
I jumped out of bed with my tiny baby in my arms, and started shaking
him, hysterically calling his name, and calling out, "God, my father,
please help me. Please help me." I had never been so frightened
and helpless in all my life.
Somehow, I managed to get to the bedroom door, and as I opened it
to call my husband, Simon took in a deep breath, laid his little
head on my shoulder, and was asleep again, and he slept the rest
of the night right through. I related what had happened to my husband,
Luigi, and the entire night, we stayed at his bedside, keeping vigil,
every few seconds feeling his pulse and making sure that he was
still breathing. We were both adamant that we would never sleep
following morning, I took Simon in to the doctor and explained to
him what had transpired. The doctor determined that Simon had suffered
cot death. He suspected that, because the baby was so exhausted,
he had fallen into a very deep sleep and had stopped breathing.
The doctor could give no explanation for the voice I heard calling
me, and could only say that it was by the grace of God that I had
woken when I did, and that Simon was still alive.
Today, Simon is a lively three year old, with a mischievous grin
and adorable dimples. I know that angels exist, that God truly is
a loving and merciful Father, and that, yes, miracles do happen.
I just have to look at Simon!
©Alison Gasparini, 2000
Permission is granted to use this article for non-commercial purposes.