The Work We Never See

A few days ago I was standing in a dark room watching a monitor display images of my son's heart. His eight year old body, lying on his side with wires attached to his chest. He held so still, and I wondered back to when he was two and had his last echocardiogram, and how did he stay still? Did we hold him down? I have no memory of it, actually. I do remember we brought him home that day and gave him a glossy white and bright Fisher Price play kitchen. I recall his happiness and his bigness and how the doctor said his heart was beautiful - literally, his heart. I remember thinking, I could've told you that. 

This time, my other son sitting in a chair watching Big Hero 6 with my husband off to the side watching the monitor too, I felt my throat swell as I watched his valves, a comma and and an apostrophe - down, up, down, up. Beautifully rhythmic. And I thought about love in and love out. Life in and life out. The constant motion inside ourselves. The work we never see but the connection to something so much bigger we always feel. 

What a rare opportunity to see the inside workings of your child's heart. When I say I will always wear my heart on my sleeve when it comes to the invisible tethered lines between my children and me, I mean it well and right. I could feel his work, it's strength and the belly of muscle. My breath rose and fell as I watched. Time went still. He is eight and his heart is still beautiful. I am his mother.

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