I heard your heartbeat for several months at ultrasound appointments. I followed the rhythm as it fluctuated climactically, then it dropped, then it reached its apex. It was repetitive, and at times we sobbed because the sound pierced the human condition. My description of the human condition―when you are at a loss for words and your heart palpitates, your eyes get watery, and you reach an emotional pivot that bridges the gap to humanity and needs no explanation. It happens in real life, film, music, literature and other places; you just have to look out for it. It is yours to experience and recall, and it cannot be taken from you. Whenever you have that experience, it is perhaps God speaking to you, and only in rare moments you can speak back. Through a black and white monitor I saw your movements; you swirled and swam, and spun in uncontrollable fury.
You had so much fun and at times I wished you could stay there for an eternity, and I would only observe you from afar. You would be protected from the world and the anxiety that comes with terrestrial living. But as you grew bigger, I wanted to meet you and that longing was more powerful than I had imagined. The day your mother was hospitalized, the anxiety dissipated and was replaced by rapture. When they plugged your mother to the monitor, your heartbeat was amplified, and it was like a cinematic experience as the sound resonated throughout the room. And it was the beat of Atrocity Exhibition by Joy Division that I heard! I danced and laughed and sang, and I knew that when you would be pulled from the womb you would do so with song and dance, at your pace, and with vehemence. This was so dear and tender to me, and like many children that indirectly absorb things from their parents, you might be influenced by this in the future.
When you first appeared, I only saw the top of your head and your black hair. The nurse asked me to pull it, but I was scared to touch you then. Your mother was still pushing and it would be another 45 minutes or so until you made your grand entrance. That final push your mother gave thrust your head forward and your little face looked around in astonishment. Immediately the doctor pulled you out further and soon your full body was out and you almost dangled. I feared the doctor would drop you, but she was the expert and I had to trust her. You sobbed and you were wet, and your skin was pure like a cloud in the sky and you were placed in your mother’s arms to bond. Your body rested against her bosom and once again the human condition presented itself, but it was one of those oddities when it lasts longer than usual and you know God’s presence is far-reaching. We finally met you and it was as if we had known you for a lifetime.
When your face started taking shape a month later, you looked like how I dreamt you before you were born―the color of your skin, the size of your body, and the color of your hair. However, we weren’t sure what color your hair was. It looked black, but in the sun it looked brown, and your faint eyebrows looked red. There were nights when you were fussy and stayed up late for almost six hours. It was hard for us to sleep but we never got mad at you. Our only thought was―how to fix you? You stuck your tongue out at us, and you smiled and laughed often. We read you different stories, but when I read you my own material, you were always attentive. You liked to be held in different positions, which we acquiesced to, and you liked to sleep on the bed, which we honored. We all slept in different positions, often awkward, but we managed. The dogs smelled you and your things often, and they tried licking you periodically. We didn’t let them because we had to get them used to you, although our Akita would follow us around when we carried you.
About two-months later, you were used to sleeping with your arms raised behind you, sometimes with one arm and your fist balled like you were fighting the power. We took you on a few road trips, which you enjoyed, and we took you to outdoor events in the evening, which you loathed. The noise was too loud and it bothered your sleep pattern, so we left. We started reading more books and making faces at you, which you responded to with awe and your own silly expressions. I soon discovered that I could play you the music I enjoyed and I could sing you the lyrics while I rocked you in my arms. Usually, you were attentive and enjoyed the sound, other times you fell asleep quickly. Music took on a new meaning and it was as if any mention of love and beauty in a song was directed at you. You have changed the way I interpret music, thank you my sweet little girl.