Two Years Ago

Two years ago today, I found out that I was pregnant. I didn’t know then, of course, that the end result would be Thomas. I had no clue about the little person he would become, the joy and challenges he would bring in equal measure, or how he would change me.

Two years ago, I didn’t know that the end result would be anything at all. Or rather, I didn’t know whether I was on a road to nothing more than heartache. I worried from the moment I saw that second pink line, which I think is normal for expectant mothers. But alongside the typical fears about miscarriage and carrying a healthy baby to full term, I worried constantly about whether my best efforts to control my own broken body would be good enough to keep my child safe. Or whether my own body’s failings, and my inability to mitigate them, would leave an indelible mark on my child. I worried about failing them before they were even born.

I look back to that day and remember only too well the anxiety that settled heavy in my chest and weighed me down for the following eight months much more than my growing bump ever could. But I remember too the excitement. The expectation and the feelings of possibility for the little life that was only just taking hold and beginning to grow, an entire future just waiting for them. I can’t believe how far we’ve come in these two short years, and how those possibilities are being fulfilled each day. Watching Thomas grow fills me with more pride and a greater sense of achievement than anything else I have ever done.

And now, I’m ready to do this again. I know that when I next see those two lines, I’ll still feel an irrepressible panic. But I know now something that I didn’t know two years ago: That the effort, the worry and the sacrifices are all absolutely worth it. I know my next child won’t be another Thomas, but I do know that I’ll love every inch of them and that no matter who they turn out to be, they won’t fail to bring me joy. I know that they, like Thomas, will be worth it.

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