And the Violins Played

To be exact, November 12th was the day.
The day the violins began to play, Etta James was queued up, the record spun and my heart soared…
At last…my love has come along
A plus sign on an EPT stick
I found out I was pregnant with my first child
Not exactly the way I had planned it
But we are in love and we’re going to be parents
And the song continued
My lonely days are over…and life is like a song.
And at 8am I came into the bedroom holding that test.
Heart pounding, look of shock on my face
A smile tugging at the corners of my mouth and a song playing in the depths of my heart
With bated breath I waited for his reaction. What? He said at first and then smiled the biggest smile I’ve ever seen and
We held onto each other in silence that morning
The weight of the air heavy with a million thoughts, dreams, fears, hopes.
And the violins played on.
At last…the skies above are blue. My heart was wrapped up in clover. The night I looked at you.
For the next few weeks everything in our lives changed.
I gave up all my vices, really thought about what I was eating for the first time in my life, dealt with daily nausea, and I began to see the woman I would be as a mother and the man he would become as a father.
And, he was amazing.
And caring
And patient
And loving
And involved
And helpful
And protective
And all the things I’d ever hoped for and all the things a father needs to be.
He held my hand, made sure I had enough to eat, came to every doctor’s appointment, shoveled snow through the brutal winter and dealt with at least three episodes of unexpected tears just like a professional.
And the song played on…
I found a dream that I could speak to, a dream that I can call my own.
As I started to prepare for July 19th and the child we pictured to be a boy
I started to picture his face, and we picked out names
A baby at first with no real personality, just needs that I am more than happy to fulfill.
Then, I imagined him at 6 months, next winter bundled up in the back of the car
Snug in his carseat giggling as I try to focus on the road instead of his sweet little laugh.
And the melody and my heart began to beat as one.
I found a thrill to press my cheek to. A thrill I have never known.
I imagined him then at 16 months and with him secured on my hip we are dancing in the living room
And Mommy is making him laugh as she sings Etta James to him.
Oh, yeah…And you smiled, you smiled. Oh, and then the spell was cast.
I am at 12 weeks and on cloud 9 as we head to the doctor to hear his tiny heartbeat for the first time.
As they press the machine to my womb we are giddy with excitement.
And, I am sure his heart is going to beat to the tune in my heart.
And here we are in heaven. For you are mine at last.
We do not hear his heart beat.
Instead, we hear deafening silence and somehow through disbelieving ears and tear stained cheeks, that something went wrong at 8 weeks, 2 days.
And the violins played.
A different song this time.