Heart's Music

My heart sounds like a washing machine. I have what they call a heart murmur, an irregular heartbeat. I've been that way since the day I was born. Doctors and nurses who are not familiar with my condition are amazed and terrified the first time they hear it. Your Grammy used to love to listen to it with her stethoscope because of its strange rhythm. My heart is different, but it is consistent: consistently different.

Because of my condition, hearts have always fascinated me: the steady thump of a muscle pumping blood through the body, never faltering until the end. Such a small but constant occurrence to make such an amazing and complex phenomenon possible: Life.

Yes, I have always found the heart to be an amazing part of anatomy. The function of the heart is such a neat and essential ingredient in the recipe of human existence. Then, one week ago today, the heart found new meaning with me. It was no longer simply an amazing muscle that provided life. I know now that one cannot read a definition and have a complete understanding of what the heart is. For me, on Friday, May 13, 2011, the heart became a musical instrument capable of tunes foreign to my ears, producing the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. The heart, YOUR heart, played for me the melody of your life, and now, I know music.

~ “And that’s your baby’s heartbeat, strong and perfect,” the doctor announced.

As I lay there, head turned to the side, watching the screen that was featuring my child, tears streamed from the corners of my eyes. The struggle to look at you, on my right, or your daddy, on my left, was giving me whip lash. I could only take my eyes from you to look at his face and vice versa. While I cried, he smiled. He has such a beautiful smile. Between the sight and sound of your fluttering heart and the sight of your father’s happiness, my senses were overwhelmed. Bliss was all I knew.

It didn’t last long. Well, the bliss is still with me because you are still with me, but our first glimpse at you was over and done with much too soon, and let me tell you, I could have stayed there and listened for hours. But within minutes we were out the door, admiring your first picture and going on and on about how awesome our baby was. ~

I love the sound of the ocean. I love to hear children laughing. I love to listen to football games on Saturday mornings as I’m waking up from sleeping in. The sound of my mother’s voice soothes me while the sound of your daddy’s voice brings me joy. Church bells, hymns sung on Sunday mornings, glasses ringing after a toast, champagne corks popping, Christmas music, and the crackle of campfires - all of these sounds I love to hear. But there is one sound incomparable to all others, and though I look forward to hearing it again…and again, and again, I will never again hear it for the first time.

The first time I heard the thrum and swish of your heartbeat was when I realized the beauty of sound.

A Second Pink Line

Nervously, I walked from my department meeting in room 108 to the principal's office. I had been told that the principal needed to see me. It was the meeting every teacher in Texas had feared since the news of the cuts in education had broken, and here I was, about to hear the words that would change my life. I cry at the drop of a hat, so I hadn't even reached the office door before I was beginning to inhale those deep breaths that come right before an uncontrollable sobbing fit. What I had worked for so many years to accomplish was about to be shattered. I was about to lose my job.

As I entered the room, two stone faced people greeted me. The human resources director sat in a chair facing me; she didn't even stand to shake my hand. My principal stood to the side, never once meeting my eyes. I was asked to take a seat. I did.

The woman from human resources spoke. What she told me was that, due to the statewide budget cuts in education, they had to eliminate some positions. I didn't hear much of what came next because it was so difficult to hear over the frantic "What the heck am I going to do?" thoughts that were bouncing around in my head. I didn't see much of what came next because trying to focus through the tears that were steadily flowing from my eyes seemed impossible. If you haven't come to the conclusion already, let me help you; your mother is a drama queen.

I left school early that day, and one of my first thoughts, once I could think straight, was of you. Granted, you hadn't been conceived yet, but like I have stated before, you were always wanted. I was so frustrated that we had been given another road block. We had put off having a child for a multitude of reasons - your dad didn't have a job, I didn't make enough money, your Grammy was sick. It seemed like every year of marriage brought new reasons why it was NOT the time to be parents. This time, we were losing our main source of income. Not only that, but in the state of Texas, it was not the time to be a teacher. Very few schools would be hiring, and even fewer schools would be hiring a theatre arts teacher.

We managed, your father and I. We knew that God would provide, and we tried not to give the future of my career too much thought. A few days later, your Auntie Lou had Scout. And while losing my job had set things in motion, Scout's birthday was definitely a needed wakeup call.

I was so pleased to be able to spend the night with the Rea's on that special night. I saw their excitement at being new parents. I saw Nic's pride at having two beautiful girls in his life. I saw love and devotion pour out of every person to hold that precious baby, especially her parents. These were all marvelous sights to behold, but I knew that these emotions came with the territory of a new baby. People were going to "oooo" and "ahhhh" over this precious child. It was human nature.

However, there was something I didn’t expect. It wasn’t a certain action. It wasn’t what someone said. It was simply a combination of many things. As I looked at my beautiful best friend with her new baby sleeping soundly on her chest, I could see that in that moment, nothing else mattered. She, like everyone, had a thousand worries and bills and chores and stresses to come home to, but those things would be taken care of, and all that mattered was that Scout was here.

Soon after, your dad and I came to the conclusion that we were tired of waiting. We had put off for so long what we had always wanted, and we refused to put it off any longer. We decided that if it was God’s desire for us to be parents, we would be, soon.

A few weeks later, I had spent more than I care to admit on home pregnancy tests. In four days, I was so tired of seeing one single pink line I could have screamed!

Negative.

Negative.

Negative.

Negative.

I had reluctantly come to the assumption that this first month, would not be the month. On April 11, almost one month to the day of losing my job, I decided to buy one last box (yeah right) of pregnancy tests. I ran by the drug store, got a box of my favorite brand, and came home to your daddy and Billman shaving our dog, Stella. Yes. This will forever be my memory of that great day.

I called Auntie Lou to chat. I checked up on Scout. She told me all the stories of motherhood. Catching up with her is always a pleasure. A few minutes into the call, she asked, “Have you taken a test yet?”

“Actually, I was just about to do that,” I answered, already feeling defeated.

“Well, do you want me to call you back?”

“No, just stay on the phone. It’ll be negative anyway. That way you can cheer me up when it is.”

So, I took the test.

When I was finished, I looked at the pink and white stick whose previous doppelgangers had, in the last 4 days, become my enemies. I had seen it before. One lonely pink line. What a let down.

“Well, it seems to be negative,” I told Lauren, “of course.”

“That was quick,” she replied. “Are you sure you waited long enough?”

I decided to give it a few more seconds. Nothing.

Just as I was about to discard it with the rest, I saw something. Ever so slowly, almost as if to tease me, a second pink line began to appear. I had to be imagining things. This was the point of crazy I had driven myself to; I was now seeing pink lines where there weren’t any. However, it continued to get darker and more focused by the second.

I must have let out some sort of cry because Lauren said, “What is it? Oh my God, Curri? Talk to me! What is it?”

I had lowered the phone, still hearing her demands to know what was going on, but I couldn’t speak. I just stood there, mouth agape, staring at the most beautiful pink line I had ever seen. One single tear streamed down my face.

“Lauren, I have to call you back.” And I hung up. It wasn’t the polite thing to do, but there was one person I wanted to show this life altering pink line to before anyone else knew, and he was outside, shaving a dog.

I screamed and cried and ran outside calling his name. He ran around the corner (hair clippers in hand), and I don’t know if he saw the tears in my eyes or the test in my hand, but a look spread across his face that I had never before seen him wear. I know now, because it's the same look he has everytime you're mentioned, that it was the look of a father.

“Is it…” he began to ask, but I cut him off short.

“We’re going to have a baby.”

We had our perfect moment. We were filled with so much joy. Nothing could interrupt our complete excite…

“Awkward third wheel,” we heard from a few feet away, as we were smiling in a tearful hug.

Oh yes. Billman shared in our moment that day too. J I was happy to share with anyone who would let me, and within a few days, the whole world, well…my whole world, knew of our Poppyseed.

Today, I’m in the process of reading a book called Who Moved My Cheese?, the Cheese in the story being a metaphor for the things we want out of life. My Cheese was not taken away on the day that I lost my job. It was moved. I found it, one month later, in the form of a second pink line.

"You'll Find That Life is Still Worthwhile"

In life, you will experience heartache, pain, sadness, and loss. I wish I could prevent it from happening to you, and in fact, I will do all in my power to soften those blows. I would much rather take on your hurt than watch you face it. However, sometimes, there will be nothing I can do other than comfort and love you.

7 months ago, your daddy lost his Momma. I lost her, too. We all did. Not only was she my mother in-law, but she was my friend, and losing a friend, although nothing compared to the pain felt by her boys, was the worst pain I have experienced to this point in my 25 years of life. 

I find comfort and reality in the profound quote by George Bernard Shaw. "Life does not cease to be funny when people die anymore than it ceases to be serious when people laugh." 

The quote, while not necessarily pretty, is honest. Life is life: good, bad, happy, sad, painful, and funny.

I urge you to keep happy memories always filed away for the tough times. For me, the following story, no matter how sad I get, makes me laugh. It helps me to remember that life is meant to be spent with a smile. So please, feel free to have a laugh at my expense.

~ In July of 2005, Grammy, Uncle Brandon, Jack (who was 2 at the time), and I took a mini vacation to Grammy’s favorite get-away: Galveston Island. I cannot remember why we decided that just the four of us would go. My guess is that no one else could come with us due to other responsibilities. I do remember that it was somewhat of a spontaneous trip.

It was a beautiful day on the island, and the temperature, I remember, was abnormally cool for July in Texas: too cool for swimsuits and suntan oil, but just perfect for a drive on the beach just Grammy and me. We loved our girl time, and when we were together, we could talk and gossip and gab for hours. And that’s exactly what we were doing when the incident occurred.

So we two girls hopped in Grammy’s white Grand Prix and went for a ride. The radio was on; the windows were down, and Grammy and I were “chewing the fat”.

Now, what you need to know about this story is that Grammy and I exuded great confidence that morning. We felt wonderful. We looked fantastic (which was the norm for Grammy). And, we were living it up, just like a couple of southern gals on vacation should. Needless to say, we thought we were pretty cool, Grammy and I.

As the rays of sun beamed into the car’s open windows, we drove down the beach, arms stretched out, feeling the breeze on our skin and the wind in our hair. I can still taste the salt in the air and smell the ocean fragrance, a scent that I will forever link to her.

And then…it happened.

It all happened so quickly, we sat in shock for several seconds afterward before it could sink in. However, in my mind, I remember everything in slow motion. Grammy, in the midst of a sentence (the topic of which has long been forgotten), came to an abrupt stop. The car, the talking, everything seemed to freeze for those seconds.

I saw it first, shooting through the air at a near invisible speed. Then, I felt the hit – something cold and wet on the upper part of my bare arm. My eyes traveled down to my left arm. There it was, running down my arm to my elbow, a thick white glob of goo. I followed the spattered white trail up to the dash board – the contrast of white liquid on black plastic. And then, slowly, Grammy turned her head to face me. 

What was most noticeable was not the look of sheer horror stretched across her face. It was the goo. Thick goo as white as the rest dripped from her cheek and chin and painted her lips like a paste.  Grammy’s piercing screech filled the car and could probably be heard a mile away.

We had been pooped on by seagulls.

We laughed so hard I thought we would split! We were covered in it! Frantically, we wiped and scrubbed and cleaned every spot of it we could find, laughing and mortified all the while. Our egos that we had proudly been stroking only moments earlier were shattered. Shame and embarrassment coated our cheeks in deep crimson as Grammy made the U-turn to head back to our motel room. ~

That’s one of my favorite stories of Grammy and me, and no matter the sadness I feel at her absence, the story of our Beach Surprise never fails to bring with it a smile.