Two Beating Hearts

Mine and his. His and mine. 

I listen, sometimes, in the heavy darkness, hovering in that place between sleep and wakefulness. I listen to his heart beating and I marvel at the fact that, despite all our worries and our losses and our setbacks, he is here. He is real. Our hearts beat together in the night, never really quite in sync, but intertwining, overlapping, sharing a beat or two before continuing at their own individual paces. Together but separate. Two heartbeats, two distinct people. Separate, yet forever joined together by the bond that we share. 

In the years before he came, another heartbeat held me, consoled me, and provided peace. That heart beat slower than mine, steady, true. It never wavered. The person behind it did, sure. Don't we all? But the heartbeat remained steady, strong. He would hold me in the dark while I sobbed, heartbroken over another loss, desperate for a child of our own. Two heartbeats, waiting, wishing, for one more. 

Mine and his. His and mine. 

Today, I saw the unmistakeable flicker of a beating heart, buried deep within my belly. Once again, I have two heartbeats. Mine and his, hers and mine. Two hearts, beating separately, within one body. Two hearts, inseparable, interdependent. Beating together, joined for this brief period of time. Growing stronger and steadier with each passing day. 

Mine and his. Hers and mine. 

I am so incredibly grateful.