laraholl-blog

[laraholl-blog]

Rosie was sleeping soundly when she was awakened by a gentle hand on her shoulder. She opened her eyes only to see her wife in obvious distress. "What's up, love?" she asked softly, the sleep still in her already raspy voice. "Panic attack," were the only words Rose could get out, her breath laboured. Rosie immediately came to her senses, like her body had just gotten the full effect of two cups of coffee.

Rosie still remembered the first time it had happened while she was with Rose. It had been terrifying for both of them. Rose couldn’t get to sleep that night, even though Rosie was slumbering peacefully next to her. She knew she was getting panicky, she could feel her own anxiety rise, but their relationship was new enough then that she didn’t even think of waking Rosie up and tried to get through it on her own. She regretted it later though, when she had worked herself into a full blown panic and Rosie had woken up anyway because of Rose’s loud crying and panting. Eventually Rosie started crying too, because she couldn’t get Rose to explain what was wrong, she had no idea what to do, and she felt horribly helpless. If someone had asked Rosie – what’s the thing you hate the most, what’s your least favourite feeling in the world – this would have been her reply. Being unable to soothe the woman she loved.

She wanted to call an ambulance that night, because she genuinely believed Rose was going to die from choking on her own inability to breathe. But as she started to dial, Rose began crying even harder and shaking her head. “Do I call Laura?” Rosie asked, at the end of her wit, and this time Rose’s reaction seemed a little more positive. Rosie had to fumble among blankets and sheets to recover Rose’s phone, found Laura’s number, and called her, feeling the most useless girlfriend ever. Laura was a bit annoyed when she answered her phone, since it was about 4:30 A.M., but she got worried upon hearing Rosie’s frightened voice. When Rosie explained through tears what was happening, Laura calmed down, still sad for Rose but relieved her sister wasn’t dead or in danger. “She’s having a panic attack,” she said to Rosie matter-of-factly. “Hand the phone over to her”. Which Rosie did. Whatever Laura was saying to Rose to guide her through her panic attack, Rosie couldn’t hear it; but it seemed to work, because after a few minutes Rose had stopped crying, and her breath was more regular.

When she felt calm enough to get off the phone with Laura, Rose was overcome by pure fatigue because of the last hour’s events. She mumbled a few words of apology to Rosie, feeling embarrassed as well, saying she really wanted to sleep now, and that she would explain tomorrow. She took Rosie’s hand in hers and fell asleep right away. Rosie lied awake for another hour and a half, thinking about what had happened, trying to calm herself down as well, not bothering to try and get back to sleep since she had to get up to go to work in a bit anyway.

They did talk about it the next day. Rose explained that she had been suffering from panic attacks since she was about twelve. She told Rosie that they had gotten less severe and happened less often since her terrible teenage years, but still something like this happened every couple of months, sometimes in the middle of the night, sometimes during the day, even when she was out in public. It was something entirely different, she explained, from the feelings of anxiety she experienced because of her OCD. Maybe they were related, maybe not: these kind of panic attacks had no reason at all, no identifiable trigger whatsoever, and that was what was so terrible about them.  Rosie could feel that Rose was embarrassed and tense about this, so she let her girlfriend go back to her usual playful self after she’d given her this minimum amount of information. But Rosie, not being a terrible girlfriend at all, but in fact a really good one, went on and did her own research. The next time it happened, while they were out shopping at Tesco’s, she managed to bring Rose down on her own without having to call anyone. She didn’t even cry herself, even though her heart completely broke at the sight of Rose sweating and trembling and crying and gasping for air in the fruit and veggies aisle.

So this wasn’t the first time it had happened. Not even the second, or third, and Rosie knew perfectly well what to do. This hadn’t happened for quite some time now, but she was still a pro at it, she thought with sadness. On seeing Rose’s frightened eyes and hearing her choked breath she didn’t lose a single second. She placed a hand on Rose’s belly, gently bringing her down with her from her sitting position into a comfy horizontal one. She cuddled around Rose, feeling her girlfriend’s muscles all stiff with strain. Rose was still having a hard time breathing and looked at Rosie with pure terror in her eyes. “Rosie, love,” Rosie murmured softly into Rose’s ear, affectionately calling her wife with her own name. “You’re safe, baby, you’re here with me. You’re not in any danger, it’s just a panic attack. It’ll be over in ten minutes tops, and you’re gonna be fine, love.” Rosie kept caressing Rose’s belly as she was lavishing her wife with the most soothing words she could think of, in the softest voice that she could. She was warm from being under the covers, and Rose was sweating profusely, but still Rosie snuggled closer to Rose. She took her hand and brought it to her chest. “Can you feel my heartbeat, baby?” Rose nodded after a few second, her eyes wide open, her hand pressing into Rosie’s chest. “Good girl,” Rosie encouraged her. “Feel my heartbeat, focus on it for a while, baby. Try and concentrate on its rhythm. You’re ok, love, I got you, I’m here with you.”

Rosie planted a kiss on Rose’s head, lingering with her lips against her wife’s hair for a few seconds. She could feel Rose working very hard to inhale and exhale, with little success. “Can you feel me breathing, Rosie? Try and breathe like I am, love. Feel my hand on your tummy? Try and push it up, fill your tummy with air, baby. It’ll be over soon, Rose, I promise.” Rose could finally take in some air. “Just like that. You’re doing fine, baby. Exhale now, I’m going to push a bit with my hand on your tummy to help you get it out. Now try and breathe in again, my love.”

They kept at this for a few minutes. Rose’s laboured breathing became a little bit easier with each successful breath, always encouraged by Rosie’s soft whispers. She still gasped once or twice, but her breath was mostly regular now. Rosie wanted to keep talking to Rose, and she tried to think of happy things she could remind her wife of, to distract her and comfort her. This was tricky, though: their new book, their new house, the upcoming tour – all these were happy things, yes, but a little scary too, and Rosie decided not to risk mentioning them in case they brought Rose to a deeper state of anxiety. She settled on reminding Rose of their previous night walk with Wilma, how relaxed they had felt on that unusually warm British spring night, how they had held hands under the stars, happy even in that ordinary mundane moment while the little doggie thoroughly enjoyed herself. Rosie had painted such a soothing picture with her words that Rose couldn’t help enjoying the memory and relaxing a bit.

Rosie sensed this, and she felt relieved that the worst was over. She moved a bit and put her free arm under Rose’s neck, drawing her face close to her and kissing her softly under her ear. Rose felt better, but still very raw. The gesture made her eyes fill with tears, and she started to cry softly. “Rosie, I’m sorry, I…” Rose spoke, trying to reassure her wife that she was ok, that she didn’t feel like she was going to die anymore, and to explain that she didn’t really know why she was crying, but she couldn’t get the words out. “Shh, baby, I know. Don’t worry about it, love, go ahead and let it all out. Just try and keep breathing regularly” Rosie comforted her wife, brushing the hair away from Rose’s sweaty forehead, gently cradling and rocking her. When Rose stopped crying a couple of minutes later, she felt like she had got run over by a bus. She kept herself close to Rosie, not really wanting to let go, not wanting her wife to stop caressing her hair. “Are you ok, baby?” Rosie asked. “Are you warm enough, are you thirsty? Do you need to go for a wee wee?” Rose shook her head. “You should drink something though, love, let me get some water for you.” Rosie started to move, but Rose held her close. “Can we stay like this for a couple more minutes?” Rose asked, her voice hoarse from having cried. “Of course, love. Of course we can.” Rose fell asleep instantly in the warmth of their embrace. Rosie didn’t have the heart to wake her up after the night she’d had, and decided that water could wait until the morning.

When Rosie woke up she found the bed next to her empty, except for Wilma sleeping on her feet. She glanced at her phone and, finding it was quite late already, she decided to get up and go downstairs. When she got to the kitchen she was amazed to see a full breakfast on the table, together with a single rose, and her wife attending to the boiling water on the opposite side of the room. Flynn rubbed against her legs and meowed, catching Rose’s attention. Rose turned and saw Rosie, still sleepy and as cute as can be in her pink jammies and slippers. “Good morning sleepyhead!” Rose grinned, having gone fully back to her usual playful, happy self. She marched towards Rosie with one of her funny walks, and when she got near her, she picked her up with some difficulty and tried to carry her to the table. Of course she failed spectacularly and they both collapsed, laughing, Rosie landing on Rose, and Rose on the hard floor. “OUUUCH!” yelled Rose. “It’s all your fault Rosie! Stop making me pick you up and carry you around!” Rose laughed at her own shenanigans and Rosie laughed along. Still half-sitting, half-lying on the floor, they kissed slowly, and kept on nose-nuzzling even after they had stopped. Rose was suddenly serious again. She took a deep breath, and started speaking: “Rosie, I wanted to thank you. I know it’s not enough to simply make you some breakfast, it could never be enough, but you were so good to me earlier, I just wanted to do something to show you immediately how grateful I am and…” Rosie put a hand on her mouth. “Babe, we’re married. That’s what married people do. Be there for each other. I want to be there for you. I love you.” Rose playfully bit Rosie’s hand. “I love you too, Roseanne Elizabeth Spaughton. I’d do anything for you.” “Anything?” “Yeah, pretty much.” “Princess time, then.” “At your service, my lady.”