6am hopefully – I’m usually jolted awake though.

“Bear! Check the monitor. I can’t here him.” Bear is what I’ve always called my husband. Everyone else calls him by his first name. Maybe subconsciously I feel like he is triggered differently knowing it’s me calling for him.

Bear quickly reassures me that the little human on the monitor is fine and quietly having an early morning party in his bed and isn’t intentionally trying to wake us up … yet.

Once reassured that I’m only missing an early morning party, I close my eyes and think about how I’m going to get everything on my to-do list done while I slowly hatch into my day. That’s right – I’m a hatcher. I slowly stretch, reposition, yawn, contemplate and stretch again before opening my eyes officially and getting on with the day. Don’t get me wrong, my hatching rituals often get put aside for my family’s busy morning life, but when I have it my way, a good hatching routine is what I choose. Bear would tell you that I seem to skip my hatch on the weekends when he is home and could catch a little extra shut-eye – he’s right because I want to make the most of the days he’s around.

I’ve learned to embrace waking up with that awful feeling that I’m missing something or that something is wrong.  My sweet boy does live with many medical needs and any one of them could wreak havoc at any moment.

I consider myself lucky to have these instincts – they have kept my boy alive.

Reminds me a bit of the “The Boy who Cried Wolf” fable, except my gut has been honest and reliable so I still trust it.

Although, there are times when I wish it would let me rest just a little bit longer …

~ Keely

Keely is an author and advocate for children living with disabilities. She lives on Vancouver Island in beautiful British Columbia, with her husband, her son William who has cerebral palsy, her two daughters and several four-legged friends.