Sometimes life doesn’t unfold the way you imagined.
This week, I’m writing about family, fear, second chances and the different ways love can arrive.

As you know, Uncle Adam and Uncle Gareth are my older brothers. Uncle Sam is mummy’s brother. Your grandparents all have siblings too. Families branch. They stretch. They multiply.

For a long time, I wasn’t sure I wanted that for myself.

If I’m honest, I think it was fear.
Fear of responsibility.
Fear of losing freedom.
Fear of not being able to give my child the life I imagined they deserved.

And then we had you. And everything rearranged.

You will know one day that your arrival into this world was not simple. November 15th, 2021 brought you to us, but it also brought trauma that none of us were prepared for. Your mum spent a long time in and out of hospitals. Healing. Physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Some parts of those early days felt really heavy. Hazy. Steep.

(None of it was your fault, and you were never heavy).

Now you’re four. You run through the house, you skateboard, you ride your electric Vespa, which you pack up with all your favourite belongings as if you are about to hit the road for a long trip. You negotiate for cinnamon swirls, ice cream and sweeties. You’ve won us and everyone else over. And so your mum and I find ourselves asking a quiet question:

Do we grow this family?

Not just for the sake of numbers.
Not just for the sake of “what’s next.”

But because a sibling is much more than just company. A sibling is your living history. The only person who will remember your childhood exactly as you do. The ribbon that ties your entire life together.

For me, the answer to this question is layered. There is context that surrounds, which really affects where I’m at on this one. 

Of course I want you to have that bond with a sibling.

But I also want your mum to experience motherhood without trauma standing in the doorway. I want her to hold her baby without fear sitting in her chest. I want her to feel the softness of that season the way it was always meant to feel.

And if I’m completely honest, I want a second go too.

Your first year was beautiful, but it was survival. I adapted quickly. I stepped in fully. I carried what needed carrying. But there were moments of sadness. Moments of resentment at the version of parenthood we had been handed.

(I didn’t resent you. I resented the circumstances).

So far, we have tried two rounds of IVF. Injections. Early mornings. Appointments. Science doing its best to help us along.

We now have an embryo, four in fact. A tiny beginning, to start a new chapter. 

Because mummy’s body cannot safely carry another baby, we are considering something called surrogacy. That would mean another woman carrying that embryo for us.

And I won’t pretend I haven’t wrestled with that.

There’s a big part of me that finds it hard to wrap my head around. Growing your child in someone else’s body. Really?

I’ve found myself recently wishing I could see it like the old story. A stork flying across the sky, delivering a baby wrapped in cloth. Simple. Innocent. Almost magical.

Maybe that image isn’t naïve. Maybe it’s hopeful.

When I strip all the complexity away, what remains is this:

Families are built in many different ways.
Some through ease.
Some through endurance.
Some through science.
Some through extraordinary kindness from others.

None of those make a family less real.

Love is what makes it real.

If one day you have a brother or a sister who arrived through this path, I want you to know they were wanted wholeheartedly. Prayed for quietly. Created with intention.

And if our family remains just the three of us, that is whole too.

The lesson I hope you carry from this isn’t about IVF or surrogacy or medicine.

It’s this:

Life rarely unfolds exactly as you imagined. But that doesn’t mean it can’t unfold beautifully.

Sometimes the path is different.
Sometimes the delivery isn’t how you pictured it. But love still arrives.

And when it does, hold on and consider yourself lucky.

Always,

Daddy x

P.s It’s your grandma’s birthday today. Happy Birthday Mum, we love you.