Panic Attacks, Faith, and the Weight of Worry

It was 3:17 a.m. The house was so quiet the noise in my head made it too loud to sleep. My newborn daughter’s bassinet cast a thin blue glow from the phototherapy lights. I could hear her breathing—light, shallow, rhythmic—while my own felt trapped behind my ribs. My wife was three miles away in a cardiac unit, her lungs filling with fluid, her heart st…