How my Daughter Taught me to Breathe

It was one of the absolute most challenging periods of my life. My marriage was falling apart, and I was barely maintaining my sanity.

Somehow I had to keep it together. My girls needed their father to figure it out. They needed a father figure.

My youngest daughter was not even a year old, but she played the biggest role during this tumultuous time.

She hated being put to bed and would get fussy with me every single night.

I made it my responsibility to make this little human being go meemees. I developed a system where I would place her on my chest, hum, and pat her back in a consistent melodic rhythm.

Hummmmmm, hummmm, hummmmm…

She would groan and wrestle me every time. But I couldn’t let her win. Then her little body eventually would start to collapse… one Z at a time.

On difficult days it would take almost an hour to put her to bed. Somehow I had to maintain my composure and stay calm no matter what.

This would only be possible if I manage my own emotions. I had to control my breathing and any anxious/nervous/angry energy I had that particular day.

I had to get my shit together, or else.

During especially rough days, I would just pick her up and place her on my chest. And breathe together.

Sadly these days, my baby is too big to be held.

But I will forever be grateful to her for teaching me to breathe and be patient even when the world is falling apart around me.

By Teevee Aguirre