That first time you hear the heartbeat of your child....
Nothing can quite describe.
I was young, single, very poor, when I heard my first child's heartbeat. I had tried hiding my pregnancy from everyone, including myself. I lived the first five months in complete denial that this was happening to me. I wish I had those months to do over. But I was an overwhelmed child getting ready to have a child and not having a guide book or road map in place to help me see through it all. I remember finally confronting my demons in my little college dorm room looking at my mom's face, in her eyes as I confessed I thought I was pregnant. There are a few moments when time seemed to stop and everything happened really fast and really slow all at the same time. Holding my breath while I waited for her response was one of those moments. I should have known my own mother always simply embraced me, embraced the situation. Fear of her reaction should never have been an added worry in my mind.
She was with me when I first heard my son's heartbeat. Loud and strong and seemingly needing to be heard. One tear after another dripped down my face as I surrendered to "what is" and felt the deep stirrings of my mother's heart inside that sound --- inside my baby's thump, thump pulsing rhythm that shouted, "I'm alive!!! I'm here!!! I'm powerful!!!"
His birth was rough. Lots of complications and a very long 42 hour delivery. And in those hours I went from being a young teen-aged girl to being a woman; the woman in charge of caring for, tending to, nurturing and sacrificing for my son.
Over the years he became one of my best friends. Laughing and giggling in rain storms while we both got drenched while pouncing and bouncing through puddles and water that was gushing along the side of the streets. Wrestling and scaring each other behind doors. Tickle torture. Inventing little hiding spaces in cupboards, in the bottom drawer of a cold stove (complete with blankets and pillows and a doll), in a tent made from a blanket thrown over a clothesline in the back yard. Riding bikes together. Exploring nature and finding animals, birds, sticks and rocks and tadpoles and bugs. Catching fireflies. Snow forts, snow angels, snow sledding, snowball fights, snowflakes on tongues and eyelashes.
Such examples of childhood and motherhood are the pieces and parts that rise above everything else that follows, the let downs, the disappointments, the frustrations, the misunderstandings. They wash away the hurt and tap us on the shoulder asking us to take a glance backwards and remember and be grateful.
Since my first child, I've been blessed with many more, my own three boys, my granddaughter, my new little grandson (to make an appearance in October) and many others who I consider my own, kids who have entered my life and blessed me more than they can ever know.
This song is one I wrote and used to sing to my boys while rocking them or getting them ready for bed. I uncovered just the tip of the iceberg in the gratitude department within its melody and lyrics. I hope on some level that gratefulness will nudge them on the shoulder, whisper in their ears, sometimes when they least expect it, even long after I'm gone.
Have I mentioned "cherish your kids"?
Enjoy the time with them you have been given, no matter how long or short that may be.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oxKBw1HA-jM
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