Three Breaths

Three breaths. Three halting, laborious breaths was all I ever saw Isabella take unconnected to tubing. The third breath was her last. 

Some days I hold my son and count three of his breaths, reveling in his tiny body's warmth. He's had countless since birth. He breathes easily and deeply in sleep, unaware of how precious oxygen fills his growing body. 

Aside from the occasional moments I count inhalations and exhalations, I take his breathing for granted.