Earth to My Heartbeat
As I look in the mirror,
The lines across my fupa smile back at me—
An echo of how I carried you to term.
Marks dancing diagonal, horizontal, even backwards,
Mapping how I hugged you through my skin,
Your imprint still etched on me.
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You knew me for who I truly was on the inside,
Growing cell by cell in your first home:
Me.
Every organ pulsing, every beat.
From the day I was born, you rested patiently in my eggs.
You have always been with me.
-
Primal, instinctual: our love began like a mother bear looking over her cub.
My fingers tracing across features that resemble mine, using my hands to cup your wondrous face.
Yet, my eyes must be playing tricks on me, as I can still feel you as part of me. My heart, now in human form.
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Dreaming of our birth, I’m taken to three days after…
When a plastic nipple shield landed us in the NICU.
So light, so little, so beautiful, and oh so mine.
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Reclining in the chair next to your NICU incubator, singing the melodies of songs that now hold a new meaning.
I maneuver you through all the wires you’re connected to for a feeding,
The shards of glass that cut through my nipples as you latched are now a testament to you learning how to thrive.
Ending this victory lap with a burp, I lift you up and pat your back until you let out that little growl.
Undulating
like a little genie rising from a bottle,
with a milk-drunk smile from ear to ear.
Plop!
Your head now against my chest,
still milk-drunk,
ears turned toward your North Star:
“You listen to my heartbeat
Because it plays your favorite song.”
***
Posted Feb 27, 2026, 2:05 AM UTC