Two Years Ago Today: The Start of Something Bigger Than Us

Two years ago today, I was waiting to go into surgery. I remember the weight of that moment — not just the fear, not just the unknown, but the reality that this was it. I was about to give birth, not in the gentle, serene way you often see in films, but through major abdominal surgery. A caesarean section. People often don’t talk about the reality of what that really means.

They don’t tell you that they go through seven layers of tissue. That it’s classed as major surgery. And unlike every other major surgery, where you’re told to rest, to not lift, to let your body heal for six weeks — this one is different. Hours later, you’re expected to be holding a tiny human, feeding them, changing them, learning how to keep them alive while barely able to keep your eyes open or move without pain.

And yet, here we are.

Two years later.

Ryan and I have kept our daughter alive for two whole years. I don’t say that flippantly — it is something we are incredibly proud of. With the start that Amelia had — the alarms, the wires, the neonatal unit, the quiet voices of concern, the exhaustion — I am not just proud of her. I am proud of us. Of the way we’ve learned, grown, crumbled and built ourselves back up again.

Amelia is thriving. She is cheeky. She is happy. She is here. And that is all that matters.

Everyone who’s been pregnant, everyone who’s had a baby, has their story. The pregnancy story. The birth story. And yet, what still baffles me is the way Hollywood tells it. You know the scenes — a tiny bump, glowing skin, a few contractions, maybe a scream or two, and a perfect baby placed in mum’s arms as everyone sighs with joy.

That might be someone’s experience. But for many of us? It’s not.

There are birth plans that never see the light of day. There are preterm labours. Babies in distress. Pre-eclampsia. Emergency sections. Baby losses. Trauma that doesn’t vanish just because there’s a healthy baby in your arms.

That’s why we must stop judging other parents — mums and dads. Every single one of us is carrying more than we say out loud. Every parent has had moments of doubt, moments of fear, moments where they felt like they were doing it all wrong. So let’s hold each other up instead of tearing each other down. Let’s be the village — or even better, the town — that helps raise each other’s kids and shoulders each other’s burdens.

Today we celebrate Amelia. But today is also for me and Ryan. It’s our two-year parent anniversary. We didn’t just survive. We’re raising a child who is filled with laughter and life. And even if the road has been anything but smooth, it’s ours — and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

So, happy birthday, Amelia.

And happy parentiversary to us.

We did it.

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References and Further Reading:

NHS. (2023). Recovering from a caesarean section Birth Trauma Association UK. (2024). Understanding Birth Trauma Tommy’s. (2023). Emergency c-sections and premature birth