She was sat at her desk chair when she felt it coming. She was well accustomed to the feeling by now, of the growing feeling of anxiety as one of her panic attacks began to creep up on her. Ange closed her eyes and stopped what she was doing, willing herself to breathe deeply – in through the nose, out through the mouth.

In through the nose, out through the mouth.

In through the nose, out through the mouth.

Despite the mantra she repeated in her head, she could still feel the trembling of her body as her anxiety bubbled underneath the surface. She spun around in her chair, gazing over the hospital car park, still trying to breathe deeply and will the panic away. But she had no such luck.

Ange pushed her office chair away from the table, putting her head into her hands. There was no fighting this attack off – she was just going to have to ride it out. Her ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton wool, so she missed the sound of the office door opening as her daughter walked in. She had been hoping to get through the panic attack uninterrupted. Until now.

"Mum?" Chloe had called from the threshold of the door as she entered the room. The girl frowned when she received no response, "Mum?"

Still receiving no response, Chloe moved closer to her mother, pulling up a chair next to her. She wouldn't have realised the older woman was even in the room if it wasn't for the gasping breaths and the quiet sobs she was letting out.

Chloe recognised the tell-tale signs of a panic attack — after all, she had suffered from them for a while, too, and still did from time to time. Although she was confused as to why her Mum was suffering from one right now, she knew she had to put that aside to help her through the episode.

"Mum?" She called gently as she sat down next to the woman, gently laying her hand on her shoulder as to not startle her, "can you hear me?". When Ange didn't turn to the sound of her voice, she carefully took one of her hands and squeezed it, holding it tight.

Her head looked round this time, seeing the young girl sat next to her with worried eyes. She hated that she had caused her daughter to worry about her. She didn't deserve to know how much of a mess she was at the moment, and she didn't deserve to see her go through this. Especially not Chloe after all that she had been through. If her Mum couldn't hold it together, how could she expect her to?

"I'm fine. D–don't worry about me," she stuttered, trying to wave her off, but her daughter wasn't having it.

"Bullshit, Mum," Chloe cursed, not apologising for her language, "you're not but that's okay. I'm here."

Ange watched as her daughter took in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and let it go before repeating the process. After watching her a few times, she copied her. It took a few minutes of hiccupped breaths and shaky gasps, but eventually the panic left her body and her racing heart began to slow. She continued the method as Chloe got up to grab a glass of water and a cold wet towel, placing the drink in front of her and wiping at her clammy forehead. It was then that she realised just her grown up her baby was, and just how proud of her she had become.

The cool water was soothing to her throat, dry from the gasping and panicked breaths she had just had. She was grateful that her daughter had come in at that moment, or she knew the panic attack would've lasted much longer.

"You okay?" Chloe said softly after a few moments, placing the wet rag down on the table. Ange didn't say anything but nodded, her lips forming a sad smile and pulling her daughter in for a tight hug. She wrapped her arms tightly round the girl, placing one hand on the back of her head as she placed a few gentle kisses above her ear. Her daughter held her tightly back.

Chloe pulled away when she felt wet something drop onto her shoulder, realising it was tears from her mother's eyes. Frowning, she began to speak.

"What's the matter?" She asked. She hated seeing her mother cry. Ange was so strong and to see her cry broke her heart in a way that was hard to understand. It was not that she saw her as any weaker, but for her mother to cry openly like that meant that she was really struggling with something.

"I'm just thinking about how proud I am of you," the woman confessed, prompting a scoff from her daughter, "I mean it, Chloe. You have been through so much and each day I am so proud of you. I feel awful that I sent you off to a therapist when you had your panic attacks. I wish I could've helped you more, but I didn't know how to. I might be a doctor, but learning about panic attacks and witnessing them with your own daughter are two very different things."

"You don't have to be sorry," Chloe reassured her, "It's hard to know what to do if they're not something you go through yourself or have experience with. I wasn't mad. You did more for me than anyone else would've."

"I know. I just felt inadequate as a mother that I couldn't make my own daughter feel better when she was hurting," Ange sighed, "it's hard enough as it is without having to feel like you're going through it alone."

"But I wasn't going through it alone, Mum," her daughter replied, "I had you. You've done more for me than I could've ever hoped for and I'll never stop being grateful."

Ange smiled at the confession, once again pulling the young girl for a tight embrace. They held each other for a few moments, holding together after a short emotional talk.

"We haven't had Chloe and Mum time in ages," the younger girl commented as she took a sip from her mother's drink.

"We definitely need to fix that," Ange said, pulling her daughter into her side and kissing the side of her head, "and you promise you'll come to me if you're struggling with anything?"

"Only if you promise the same," Chloe said, looking up at her Mum.

"Deal," the woman smiled, turning back to the computer screen, her daughter snuggling in closer, enjoying the comfort of her mother's arms.