The Awaited Heartbeat

I hold my breath for moments that feel like a lifetime. . . .forever anticipating a heartbeat. I hear his and crave the thumps that tends to drift him to a remote island where exhaling is crucial. My heart is set at pause. It stopped when something wrong was identified & named, yet his most vital organ tends to rejoice constantly while dancing to a rhythm recognizable to him but unheard by others. His presence rains rivers, quiets nature and embodies the tenderness of what the soul of existence should be. But I am surrounded by an atmosphere of questions that are filled with improbability, wondering if there’s more on the horizon? Will he ever express the same language? Will there be at any time a demonstration of an act of surprise that causes an actual “Wow!” connection – suggesting he has arrived? And what if a break in the monotony surfaces? Will I miss it? I’ve focused so much on the everyday that I’m unsure of anything beyond the obvious. My dreams manifesting is something I would love to see, but when there are extended days of clearly no grasping knowledge and development is seen throughout the neighborhood with the exception of your home, dreams appear to be at a considerably great distance away. However as time forces us from one year to the next, something in the wind shifts. Afar off you detect strides being made and then one day you’re harkened to an unfamiliar cry. You hear “mum mum mum” instead of a hush, a pin drop only. “Mum” transforms to “Mom.” One word connects with several more, and sentences are used where prior silence dictated blank stares and no reply. You’re embraced or squeezed whereas “the back” was the new hug and the norm, and his new found adventure of ability ,as well as, comprehension is somewhat beyond your imagination, yet refreshing, exhilarating. . .and all constitutes a sigh of relief and a sincere gratitude. So contrary to the medical field and their many convincing conversations of “the nevers,” the miraculous has pushed and lightened it’s way through the fog. I’m in awe. The cloak of doubt drops to the floor. It hangs in the closet from time to time because life brings about new transitions, new inquiries & new fears. But you still have this expectation of a climb. There’s possibility of progress now. The prospect of learning being acquired is not farfetched anymore. As a result, I am persuaded to take each day as a success story – no matter what emotional ride is displayed. . . .no matter the crawl, the leap, the stumble and the fall. And on this excursion with all its future elevations and declines, his growth will be my growth, his victories are my victories, his losses are my losses and his happiness is my happiness. . . .and finally my long awaited heartbeat is felt & heard.
 
 
Thanks for listening,
 
Portia
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