Valves

Turn over

Lift this up please

He coaxes my shirt out of my tucked pants, and I slide it up to expose my midriff

Lie on your side

that way

Is it cold?

He asks a question to which he already knows the answer 

Oooo

I exclaim as he places the ultrasound sensor on the left side of my chest. 

It tickles a bit.

The conical black space on the screen above springs to life.

Whishwhishwhishwhishwhishwhishwhishwhish

I stare up, transfixed at what appears to be tissue, flapping about haphazardly

I get a sense for the rhythm

constant

metronomic

sound marrying movement

I am taken aback,

and then suddenly, taken back

---

wishwishwishwishishishishish

That’s the sound of your little one’s heart

I squeeze J’s hand more tightly and stare, transfixed.

We have each been stunned into silent tears, as we realize what it is we are seeing

Our little pepe has a beat

It’s so fast

yeah

We are overcome, joyful,

hearfelt.

shit just got real

---

And, now, some 19 years later,

I find myself again in the ultrasound room

But this time,

I’m on my own.

I realize that I am seeing and hearing my very own heart for the very first time.

This little heart of mine leaps into my throat.

My voice cracks as I ask him

Is that my heart?

Yep, that’s it.

He uses the pointer to guide my gaze.

This right here is the valve, opening and closing

I gape in awe at the coordination, effort, precision of it all. Figuratively and literally jaw-dropping.

I should make this a habit

Not the hospital visit per se, rather the part about not just hearing, but actually listening to my heart.

It is said having children is like having a piece of your heart, out there in the world, moving around, living, breathing

even hurting.

I wonder if perhaps that is where this connection first begins. You sit in a room, staring at a monitor, and a tiny soul is borne real in black and white.

Symmetry is not lost on me. Today is the first time I’ve seen a heart beating in person since I saw my son’s.

This affords a sense of time passing, lending weight to it all.

As I bookend these distant yet proximal moments in front of an ultrasound screen,

I shed a tender, meaningful, and, dare I say

heartfelt

tear.

---

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