Am I Alone?

Do other mothers feel this? The listening when she's in the shower to be sure she's still "there". Standing a moment too long in the hallway listening for the small sounds: the movement of bottles of shampoo and condition, the moments when she sings to herself, the small sounds of life. The checking too often when she's sleeping - making sure she's breathing, soothing away the nightmares large or small without ever knowing which they are.

This wasn't always our life. Before the panic attacks. Before the suicide threats. Before the constant ball of frantic worry lodged itself permanently in my throat, back far enough that no one should see the way it chokes me.

And this won't always be our life. Our day we'll be past the therapy and the trauma and she'll be a grown up with her own life and this constant drumbeat in her head will be gone. And I'll be able to breathe, and swallow, and pray to any god that will listen that she will never have to feel this way, listening to the breathing of her someday children.

But tonight, I'm on guard. Fighting against a vicious and invisible enemy. Trying to breathe past the panic that chokes me. Listening for those small sounds.