You take breathing for granted. You breathe in, you breathe out, you go about your day. Earlier this evening, I made my first phone call to 911. I didn’t think at all about my breathing, I was instead focused on my child’s lack of breathing. Through the entire experience I breathed in, and out, and in, and out, and somehow kept on living. And then when it was over, and A was breathing in and out again, and the paramedics had left, I finally noticed my own breathing as I sobbed in and out.

A seems to be doing fine. She is asleep on the couch next to me, breathing in and out. But I can’t stop shaking.


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