Week two: A Dream Come True
Week two has flown by faster than a toddler spotting an unattended biscuit tin. I can hardly believe how much has changed in such a short time. Having Hunter in my life feels like a dream come true—one that comes with cuddles, coos, and the occasional 3am existential crisis.
After years of waiting, and facing the heartache of previous losses and the challenges of persistent gestational trophoblastic disease (GTD), I often wondered if I would ever be blessed with a baby. GTD is a rare group of pregnancy-related tumours that begin in the cells that would normally develop into the placenta. In my case, it was a molar pregnancy—a condition where abnormal tissue grows instead of a healthy embryo—and it required chemotherapy to treat.
If you’re curious to learn more about these conditions, Cancer Research UK offers a detailed overview of gestational trophoblastic disease (GTD), and the NHS provides clear, compassionate guidance on molar pregnancy.
There were days I felt like my body had betrayed me, and nights I cried wondering if motherhood would ever be part of my story. Miscarriage and infertility are deeply personal and often isolating experiences. If you’ve ever walked that path, I see you. I honour your strength. And I send you love from the deepest part of my heart. You are not alone, and your story matters—whether it ends in parenthood, healing, or simply surviving one day at a time.
If you’re seeking support, these charities offer incredible resources, helplines, and community:
Sands – Supporting anyone affected by the death of a baby and working to improve bereavement care.
Tommy’s – Funding research into miscarriage, stillbirth, and premature birth, and offering trusted pregnancy information.
The Miscarriage Association – Providing support and understanding for those affected by miscarriage, molar pregnancy, or ectopic pregnancy.
Now that I have Hunter, it’s as if the universe has finally aligned. He’s here. He’s healthy. And he’s mine. This little miracle has brought light into places I didn’t even realise were dark.
This week has been especially special as Granny and Grandad have been staying with us. Their love for Hunter is palpable, and it warms my heart to see how completely smitten they are with him. Granny, in particular, has already showered him with affection—her eyes lighting up every time she holds him, whispering sweet nothings like he’s the star of a Jane Austen novel. It’s a beautiful sight that reminds me of the joy of family and the bonds that span generations. I swear she’s already planning matching Christmas jumpers.
It’s been a steady week of introductions—Aunties, Uncles, Grandparents, and Cousins. Each visit brings a fresh wave of love and excitement, and it’s clear that everyone is just as obsessed with this content little boy as I am. Hunter has become the centre of attention, and I couldn’t be happier to share him with our tribe. I often sit back and watch these interactions, feeling like the proud host of a very exclusive meet-and-greet. VIP passes only.
One of the big milestones this week was Hunter being discharged from the midwifery team after his jaundice cleared up beautifully. It was a relief to see him healthy and thriving, and I felt a quiet pride watching him grow stronger each day. The midwife visits had become a comforting routine—like a wellness check for both of us—and while I appreciated their support, the discharge felt like a rite of passage. We’re doing okay. We’re finding our rhythm. And I’m only mildly sleep-deprived.
Speaking of sleep, Hunter generally wakes up a maximum of two times a night for feeds, and thankfully, he settles back down quite well afterwards. Of course, there are those occasional nights where we both end up in tears—me from sheer exhaustion and him for reasons I can’t always decipher. Hunger? Wind? Existential dread? Who knows. But we plod on, supporting each other through the tough moments until we eventually drift back to sleep. It’s a bonding experience I’m learning to embrace, even when I’m Googling “can you survive on four hours of sleep and a digestive biscuit?”
Now, let’s talk about one of my more comical adventures this week: trying to get Hunter’s passport photos taken. Alone. Rookie error. THIS IS A TWO-MAN JOB. I tried everything—white background, neutral expression, no shadows, no hands in frame. Hunter, meanwhile, was squirming like a tiny eel and pulling faces that ranged from “confused owl” to “startled potato.” After several failed attempts and a mild emotional breakdown, I gave up and headed to Max Spielmann. Within moments, they snapped the perfect photo for £12.50. Honestly, I should’ve gone there first and saved myself the trauma and the 47 outtakes.
As the days pass, I’ve noticed Hunter’s eyes opening even more, and watching him take in the world around him is nothing short of magical. Each time he looks up at me, I feel a rush of emotion—a mix of love, awe, and the occasional panic when I realise I haven’t brushed my hair in three days. He’s absorbing everything—the light streaming through the window, the sound of the dogs barking, and the laughter of family members. It’s as if he already knows he’s surrounded by love, and it fills my heart with joy.
In an effort to make the most of these early days, I invested in a sling so I can take Hunter and the dogs out for walks together. This has quickly become my new favourite hobby. There’s something incredibly fulfilling about being outdoors with all my loves, the fresh air invigorating us as we stroll. The sling allows me to keep Hunter close while giving me the freedom to move around with the dogs, and it’s become an essential part of our daily routine. Bonus: it also hides the fact that I’m wearing the same leggings for the third day in a row.
As we walk, I often talk to Hunter about the things we see—the trees, the flowers, the occasional squirrel with a death wish. I want to instil in him an appreciation for the world around us from an early age. These moments of connection, where I can share my thoughts and dreams for him, feel incredibly special. I hope that as he grows, he’ll come to love the outdoors as much as I do, and these walks will become cherished family traditions.
As I reflect on this week, I’m filled with gratitude—for the support of my family, the love surrounding Hunter, and the small joys that come with being a new mum. Each day is a new adventure, and while there are challenges (and questionable smells), the love I feel for my son makes it all worthwhile. I’m learning to take things one day at a time, celebrating the small victories and finding joy in the mundane.
To anyone still waiting for their miracle, or grieving the one they lost—please know that your journey is valid. Your strength is immense. And your story is still unfolding. Whether you’re in the thick of it or quietly healing, you are part of this community. You are loved.
Here’s to many more weeks filled with laughter, learning, and love as we continue to navigate this beautiful journey together. 💙
“Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.” — A.A. Milne
