A Mama's Heart

Today I saw my mama's heart.

We are in the hospital, and Mom has pneumonia.  The portable echocardiogram machine fit nicely in the room, and the technician carefully took pictures of Mom's heart from different angles.   At one point, the picture was accompanied by the sound of the beating heart.  Strange to say, it moved me to tears and I had to turn away so Mom wouldn't see.  

That sound was likely the first one I heard or was aware of.  For the first nine months of my life, that heart beat for me, kept me alive, and fed me.  A mama's heart loves so savagely that it aches in times of sorrow, leaps in times of joy, is heavy in times of trouble.  A mama's heart beats for her children all of her life.  

My mama's heart has sustained me through good times and bad, through the despair of infertility, through the joy and pain of parenting.  She has always been my ardent supporter, my friend and confidant.  

My heart ached today for my mama.  For her fear and confusion, for her weakness and pain.  My heart felt like it would burst with love.  Children love savagely, too.  I love my mama's heart.

I wept today for long goodbyes that stretch into years.  For pain that can't be eased.  For illness, for the frailty of life.  I wept today for my mama and I wept with thankfulness for my mama's heart. 

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