The average adult will take 12-20 breaths per minute.

Breathing is essential to life. It is the very first act that we take and it will always be the last. It is ironic that breathing is autonomous.

I don’t control it and yet I congratulate myself for getting through the day if that is the only thing I do.

I think a lot about breathing lately.



Wait with bated breath.

Can’t quite catch my breath.

Every day, people post. “ I pray today is the day you find Ryan. I pray for closure. Let this be the day you bring your baby home.”

I honestly never think today is that day. I have wanted it for so long. I have gotten down on my knees. I have begged. I have bargained. I have pleaded. And each night there is a shocked disappointment tinged with unexpressed grief that fills me. I am barely breathing.

I remember my babies. Holding them while they fussed. Crying so hard that they forget to breathe. Their tiny expressions beet red with eyes so wide and panicked. I would gently blow on their faces and with an expected gasp they took a deep breath.

Sometimes I feel like I am walking the world in the same way. Waiting for the gentle breath that forces me to breathe again.

I remember scraped knees, owies on elbows and cuts on fingers. With a magical breathe, I made everything better. Who will be my saviour?

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Again and again.

Today and tomorrow.

For as long as I take a breath, I will search for Ryan. While I live, I will be his advocate. I will defend him when others may judge. I will protect his character and his memory, for that is all we have left. To my last breath.

Breath is air.

Air is life.

I gave you breath when I gave you life and now I will breathe for both of us.