Hello everyone!
Another recent first for me has been the heart ultrasound. I had not expected one, as I do not have any history of heart problems. But then these words popped into my mind: “not that I know of” and “yet”. (That is the gloomy part of this experience over and done with, don’t worry.)
Previously, I had heard the heartbeats of my own children on ultrasounds but never my own. In all honesty (and some guilt and astonishment), I can say that mine was by far the loveliest to listen to. Their heartbeats were so fast, so furious, so frantic - whereas mine was simply magnificent. I was proud of it. I could see it beating away, with all its brave busyness, and I was moved at the very sight of it. It had a good, safe rhythm going: a “perfect” one. When I saw it on the screen, I could see how it was thumping away, like it was working away at a task. (Scrubbing laundry by hand maybe - but in a really cheerful, efficient manner.)
I asked the sonographer what sized heart I had: small, medium or large? Because from a purely technical perspective, he was the only person in the world to be able to answer this question. And also because the probe he used seemed to be either tracing the outline of a truly enormous heart or searching for a really tiny one. It turns out I have a reassuringly, normal, medium-sized heart.
What I learned is that my heartbeat has a music to it. Its loveliness gently overwhelmed me with peacefulness, like a very early memory waking up. I realised then that I missed my mother. More than I knew. I realised that when you miss a person, then that loss is embedded in something as deep as the beating of a heart. Not just in your own, but in theirs as well. Usually, you cannot hear these things at all but they are still there. I did say that the gloomy part of the story was only at the start and that is still true. I would like to hear my heartbeat again. Not yet though, not yet. I may need to save that ‘good news’ for one of the challenging days that lie ahead?
