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New Year’s Eve. It was a day so full of potential, but as the greatly anticipated day began, we were unsure whether this potential was elation or despair. Taking our seats in the waiting room of the Early Pregnancy Unit, it seemed too cruel that we might be forced to welcome the New Year with bad news, and yet too optimistic to think that the end of the year could signify the end of the trials and tribulations of 2013.
As we waited, the couple before us were given bad news. We knew because they were led to the room where you are supposed to recover from the shock of bad news, the room where we had sat before. It was our turn next. Surely they couldn’t give out two lots of bad news in a row? Surely our odds had to be better this time? Then again, we were there because the odds were stacked against us.
The whole morning, like the two weeks that lead us there, was surreal; not daring to hope for fear of disappointment, but longing to hope all the same. Everything was standing still, waiting. And then, with a laugh (finally), it was there: the eight week and three day old heartbeat, the start of a new chapter, perfectly timed.
2014 has been a year of contradictions. The first half spent growing, waiting and dreaming, the second half thrown into the realities of parenthood. The first half excitedly admiring my bump, the second half adoring eight pounds of perfection. The first half wishing the days away, the second half clutching at the moments as they slip by all too quickly. It’s been terrifying, beautiful, daunting, incredible and blissful all at the same time. And in all those quiet moments of wonder and waiting, and the tearful moments of midnight comforting, I’ve been forced to grow and learn.
Firstly, I’ve learnt that I worry too much. This doesn’t necessarily mean that I now worry less, but it does mean that at times I can take a step back and realise that worrying does not achieve anything. The initial big worries of pregnancy (will we get our happy ending?) never completely disappeared, but they did gradually begin to fade. This left space for less significant anxieties to creep in. I had never changed a nappy (it’s actually not rocket science). I had never soothed an upset baby (the crying will eventually stop). I thought of endless lists of mistakes I might make (I’ve probably made them all already, but it’s ok because I’ve learnt from them). While worrying is a natural part of parenting, I am beginning to realise it often just serves to make me feel worse rather than making baby feel better. It’s not the most productive use of my time.
This leads me to the second, perhaps the most important, thing that I’ve learnt this year: time is precious. It’s a fact that we’re always aware of, somewhere in the back of our minds. As we rush to cram too much into our working days or realise with sadness how long it has been since we caught up with the special people in our lives, we are all too aware that our time is valuable. But I never realised just how much every single moment counts until I was faced with a newborn who is growing and developing by the minute. While there have been challenging moments, they have only made us stronger throughout the blur of the first three months. I’m learning that each moment brings something new – a smile or a nonsensical word that I haven’t heard before – and I want to dwell in each one for as long as possible.
It has perhaps been not so much a year of learning, but a year of embedding what I already knew. After all the bumps in the road that led to this point, I will look back on 2014 as the year that started with two of us smiling and ended with three of us laughing.
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