See here, on my tummy, a trace of silver; a knitted stretchmark.

She told Mrs. Warren at Milkwood Pre-primary the story when she was three:

“Mommy knitted me.  She used love-wool for the knitting.  When she was finished knitting, she brought me to a midwife and the midwife made me born.  Daddy took scissors and cut the wool where the midwife made a knot and they put me in the Mickey Mouse blanket and gave me to my sister.”

There is a wrinkle, deep, between my eyes.  Here, feel it.

A curious child, bold.  I have worry lines, how will I protect her from getting hurt?  But – oh! – what joy to watch her discovering things; absorbing new information.

“What’s in de cubbid Mommy?”

Underneath the silence of the house only my ear hears it, even breathing.  Now it changes, slightly, she’s dreaming: on her bike, riding fast over the grass in the park.  Patterns of willow through the sunlight, the Egyptian geese laugh as she speeds past.

            “Look Mom; no hands!”

Here, next to me is a pile of pink clothes.  Girls’ size 8 – 9 years.  Must remember to give to the charity shop.

Good Lord!  She changes with each day; last term she was – in puzzlingly quick succession – a tomboy, a Goth, a Hannah Montana fan …

“Mom, can I get some skinny jeans tomorrow?”

Look at this blister on my hand, here; I burned it this morning.  I emptied egg shells so that we could spend the day decorating them together, for Easter.  I didn’t want to waste the eggs …

Every experience is different, more acute, when I share it with her.  She is my greatest joy, my biggest fears are for her safety, and my most fierce hopes are for her happiness.

“Oh goody Mom!  Strangled eggs for breakfast.”

It’s a private joke between us and I laugh.  Every time.

There she is; my pride, my joy; the very beat of my heart …

This is a repost of an old journal entry.  I felt it fitted with Side View’s weekend theme.  For more entries on the theme, please go to:


36 thoughts on “THE BEAT OF MY HEART

  1. And don’t they just hold your heart in their hand? Your writing says it all today, Cindy. Mads had a haircut yesterday and suddenly she looks like Amelie from that beautiful French film. Something appears to have happened in the pit of my stomach and I can’t quite put my finger on what it is….and then your post this morning….reaching for the tissues….

  2. This is such a beautiful story – of course, more than story – and so beautifully written. Somehow reading it smooths my own heartbeat… must be that constant of love flowing through as if to the end of days.

  3. You have spoken my own heart and soul truth regarding my daughter as well Cindy. I felt your love and hopes and fears in every line. There is no greater joy and terror in this world than being a mother. From my daughter and I in Canada to your daughter and you in South Africa, we send love. Have a good week lovely lady. 🙂

  4. Cindy, what a beatiful post. I love the photo too …

    I had all the same feelings when I was young and he was little … now I am old and he long grown and independent: bigger, smarter, well married, and has higher income earning capascity … I’m still in the same place.

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