Kevin and I have no kids, but we’re heading into that late 20s range now where people start asking us (as if they ever really waited – because to be honest with you, someone asked us in the receiving line at our wedding) and they want to know what our “plan” is.

We have plans, I guess – but not a “plan.” I haven’t been blessed with a job to sustain living with a small human that eats everything, a house to grow that human in, or money to sustain that kind of lifestyle. Not yet, anyway.

That’s not to say we don’t want to have kids. We’d definitely like some, but right now we’re relegated to staring at strange babies from afar or swimming dangerously close to them at the pool to see how chubby their cheeks are. That’s about where we are, “plan” wise. We’re getting there…if stalking counts.

I’ve been thinking a lot about it recently because I just read an article about a woman, a new mother, who had sleep terror disorder and how a few times a week she would wake up in a panic thinking her baby was lodged at the bottom of her bed, trapped in her comforter. Even when she was partially awake and her husband told her the baby was sleeping in the next room, and even when he held the baby monitor up to her ears for her so she could hear the baby breathing she still had to tear through the sheets like a mad woman to make sure the baby wasn’t really there.

Holy shit, that could be me.

Well, that was my initial thought. Then I started thinking about how we don’t sleep with a top sheet, and our comforter is always facing the wrong direction, hanging half off the bed, or securely positioned under me while we’re sleeping. Even if a baby did get into our bed (one that we presumedly owned) and it did somehow creep to the foot of the bed, there would be no soft blanket lodge to keep it from rolling off. I imagine it would take after it’s mother and just roll off the bed to safer grounds below. Or just crawl away into the closet. That thought, combined with how cushy our carpeting is, made me feel better.

But feeling better about sleep terror is always fleeting. The other night I woke up to the smell of smoke, a smell that was thick and was hanging over our bed. Something in the house was on fire.

My first thought was to look at our bedroom door, because in second grade I remember a fireman saying that if there’s a fire in the house check the door knob first to see if it’s hot. He meant you had to touch it, physically feel that it was hot. I just stared at it. That’s also why I have to always keep my bedroom door shut while I’m sleeping, fyi – so thanks for that fireman.

So I looked at the door, saw that the knob wasn’t burning red or orange and that there were no shooting flames coming out of the doorframe, but I could still smell this smoke. The room even looked a bit hazy (valium), so I figured the smoke was already starting to come in from under the door.

I had two real thoughts at that moment. The first was, we’re goners. The second was, I might be able to climb out that window, although it’d be a real shame to break the screen.

I woke up Kevin and said – verbatim – “Kevin, there’s smoke in the room, something’s on fire.” Without even sitting up in bed he said, “No, there isn’t. It’s fine.”

“No there isn’t. It’s fine.”

And I remember thinking about that fireman briefly, and looking at the door and smelling the air, and wondering out loud why would the room be smoky if there was no fire? Smoke without fire? It didn’t make any sense, but instead of getting out of bed and investigating it I asked one more question.

“Why does that part of the room look weird?”

Kevin replied, “It doesn’t” and that quickly put an end to that conversation.

So am I going to be like that woman? Will I tear the bed apart looking for the baby? By the sounds of it, probably not. I’m imagining waking Kevin up in a panic, “the baby’s on the roof” and he’ll say “it isn’t” and that might be enough to let me go back to sleep.

Or I’ll wake up sleeping under the crib.

But who knows? I tear the sheets apart now because sometimes I think there are turtles in the bed so anything can happen.