A year.

Today, September 7th 2021, marks a year to the day that we went for an early scan and saw you for the first time.

Your dad had to sit 2m away from me and all I wanted was to hold his hand. Seeing his face when he saw you for the first time, little Sprout, was amazing. I’ll never forget that. I think the pregnancy became real for him that day and in many ways it did for me too.

An early reassurance scan was my idea. I was so scared you weren’t real. After all, it happened so fast and we couldn’t be that lucky, right? But there you were, jumping around, your heartbeat so strong.

We cried in the carpark with happiness. We called a few people who didn’t yet know but we wanted to tell. We downloaded all the pictures and videos of the scan and eagerly sent them to family and friends.

We told the world later that day.  Fuck the 12wk “rule”. You were our baby and we loved you, we wanted to share that. We wanted people to know about you incase we never got to meet you. You were our child and the gestation didn’t matter, we adored you already. I’m a big believer in announcing whenever you like. Parents shouldn’t be scared into waiting 12wks. We, little Sprout, are proof that hitting that magical number still doesn’t mean you get to come home.

I’d say it’s a year of loving you, but in reality, we loved you the second that second line appeared on the test.