It was almost as if there was an Underground Station in the sleeping village of Longridge, Preston. It was a sunny morning, mid way to noon and we we’re on time for the approaching train. The underground station was the local doctor’s surgery. Busy, bustling and even sporting the red ticker screen signalling the next departure.
Laura and I weren’t really sure what to expect, it was the first time that we were to hear what a little heartbeat would sound like. Nervous excitement fits the moment perfectly as the Midwife tuned the hand held device. Then suddenly the distant, regular echoing beat jumped out of the speaker.
It sounded as though we were in the tiled tunnels of an Underground Station, with the faint pattern of a train running along the electrified tracks in earshot. The rhythm reverberated around the echoing space and what a sound it was. It was a joyful moment when for the very first time we heard the miracle of life that is being intricately knitted together. A few weeks earlier we had witnessed the grainy monochrome silent movie, the first proof of life. But now to hear the beat of a little heart was breathtaking, assuring and a sound never to be forgotten.
dean hogarth 