The greatest gift

After years of heartache, Amy Morris got her Christmas Day miracle

Dressing my baby girl in an adorable Santa hat and matching red dress with fur trim, it felt like the most magical moment. ‘A Christmas outfit for my Christmas baby,’ I beamed, while Lilly-Blue, 11-months, stared up at me with her big, blue eyes, her smile lighting up her face as she played on our living-room floor.

I knew the 2020 festive season was only just beginning, but I couldn’t resist starting the celebrations early. There’d been a time I thought I may never feel that rush of a mother’s love, and every tear I shed and pound I had to lose to make it happen had been more than worth it.

My husband Chris and I met at school, aged 16, and even back then I’d told him I wanted to be a young mum. He wasn’t fazed, and by the time we’d got our own place four years later, we’d already picked the name Lilly-Blue for a little girl.

Chris was a plumber, while I worked in sales, and our life plan seemed on schedule until I noticed my periods had become irregular. A blood test showed my testosterone levels were slightly higher than they should be. My GP assured me it was nothing to worry about, but warned it could mean it’d take me longer to conceive than most people.

‘I think we should start trying now,’ I told Chris that evening, worried about waiting any longer. We agreed I’d have the contraceptive implant removed and, rather than putting pressure on ourselves to conceive, we’d wait to see what happened. But, a year later, I still wasn’t pregnant. Every period brought a wave of sadness and disappointment, so we ramped up our attempts, buying ovulation kits, and I downloaded an app to track my cycle.

‘It’s not working,’ I cried to Chris months later, but, as we were still in our early 20s, with time on our side, we decided to wait a while longer.

Start of a journey