We found out yesterday that my husband’s brother, and his partner, had their baby. They’re in Australia, which means a delay in news (as well as in cuddling my new little niece!) but I’m thrilled to bits to be an auntie for the first time. So close to my son’s sixth birthday (how am I going to be the mother of a six-year-old in a couple of weeks!), it’s making me remember that first sight of my little lad, purple and not breathing, and then the utter joy of holding a pink, healthy newborn in my arms. Even after miscarrying my first early on in that pregnancy, I didn’t know what it would mean to suddenly have a complete and utter stranger be the center of my universe, and that he is.
We’re not going to have another baby, so he’s it. The little things we missed out on (like pics of me holding him in the hospital), we’ll never be able to make up, but I don’t mind that so much. I am sorry not to have another child to love like I love Ciaran. I’m sorry to not have the chance to be an experienced parent of a newborn, instead of a complete newbie who put way, way too much pressure on herself. I’m sorry for those things. My brother- and sister-in-law are so lucky to be starting on that journey, even if I don’t envy them any of the sleeplessness that they’ll no doubt experience over the next weeks and months!
But I do envy them the introduction to the new little one and I envy holding a warm little body and kissing a fuzzy baby head. That’s a memory I hope I never forget.