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| The Heartbeat |
The sound of Bean's heartbeat from the Doppler fetal monitor filled the hushed silence. For a wonderfully still moment, recorded in my heart for all time, her fetus heart pounded out a quick galloping rhythm. And suddenly, after this pregnant woman had questioned herself time and time again in amazement, wondering if a little life actually grew inside her -I could hear her.
It would be a little while longer until I would be able to feel her movements, her kicks, and hits and her stretches and her bouncy movements to music but before all that I had heard her heartbeat.
It was strong. Steady. Miraculous.
Every doctor appointment I held my breath while the doctor pressed the Doppler fetal monitor against my chilled belly skin until the wondrous sound filled the air, bringing a reassurance that Bean was still safely snuggled within my womb.
What we shared before she was born was the rhythms of our hearts. For, as I could hear hers- nestled within my body, she was listening to my steady adult heartbeat every moment of her days.
Beat after beat she could hear the familiar drumming of my heart as she grew, as she slept, as she moved in her tiny world. How important is this sound to our babies? Some researchers have tried to studied it, to measure the value of hearing the maternal heartbeat and of course, it's difficult to form a concise statement of importance. Newborns can't explain what they heard in utero and or explain what was important. But place that babe against your chest, with their tiny ears pressed against you and I have to wonder, as they settle down, if they aren't listening to our hearts, to the familiar rhythms that have surrounded them since before they took their first breaths.
Late in the night, as Bean would wake asking for milk, I would feed her and then cuddle her against me, watching her chest move with the beating of her heart, with her even breathing, all working together in the rhythm of life.
This would never change either, checking to see the heart beat, the breathing moving through her. Even as toddlers and young children, I would quietly tip toe into their rooms at night, before I went off to bed, watching these movements of life to reassure me that Bean and Abu were alright. They would roll over in their bed or flop around, clearly okay since they were moving and still, I would have to see that beat of their heart and hear their breathing before I felt like things were right in the world.
And then I would cuddle with hero hottie, my ear pressed to his chest so I could hear the strong, masculine beat of his heart.
From the moment we can hear we are surrounded by the heartbeat. When we are still and quiet, we can pay attention to our own, feeling it beat continuously, sometimes controlled by our emotions, for surely there has to be something about the heart being the center of our emotions. When I'm happy, my beat is sturdy and relaxed. When I'm excited or hyper, it beats frantically, as if to join in with my joy. Fear will make it race. And sadness or grief will make it feel heavy.
Scientists will explain that the different hormones we produce in relation to our emotions affect the heart. There are physical explanations to all these different things. Regardless of this information, our hearts play a momentous part in regulating the beats of our life.
We give our hearts away when we are in love...our hearts our broken when love is not returned...our hearts are bursting with joy...our hearts are fragile and vulnerable.
Home is where our heart feels safe and loved.
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