The day John was born, I had a heartbeat monitor strapped on for about nine and a half hours. I could hear his heart beating from 9:00 in the morning until he was born in the evening. I loved being able to hear that. Other people came and went from the room, but I listened to his heart from start to finish. It reassured me that he was ok, and that we were both going to get through the day. Later that night, alone (and terrified) with a sleeping John in my arms, I felt like I could still hear the echo of his heart beating, or maybe it was mine.
Seven years later, I’m still listening for him. We have a monitor in John’s room because it’s too far away for us to hear him if he has a bad dream or calls out. Sometimes, once the house is completely still, I can hear him breathing on the monitor. I love it when this happens. I know he’s fine back there, of course, but when I hear him breathing I really know he’s fine. He’s a big kid now, but hearing him still gives me peace, in my mind and in my heart.