Sobriety taught me to confront the unknown—and to come out stronger for it. These past two weeks have been a testament to that truth.
The birth of my daughter, Amara, was originally planned for December 29th, the start of my 39th week of pregnancy. At 39 years old, categorized as “advanced maternal age,” I was deemed high-risk, and the idea of a scheduled induction gave me a sense of control in a journey fraught with unpredictability.
But life had other plans. On Thursday, December 19th, during one of my routine twice-weekly prenatal visits, the tone shifted. The nurse noted protein in my urine, and my blood pressure had spiked. I tried to rationalize it: “It’s because I’ve been so worried about my mom.” My doctor, steady and serious, gently countered, “Regardless of the cause, your risk for preeclampsia is significant. Be prepared to deliver sooner than expected since you’re already at term.”
Tears welled up. Yes, I longed to meet my daughter, but not yet. I had clung to December 29th as a lifeline, a date that gave me time to brace for the unknown. Despite the readiness of Amara’s nursery, I didn’t feel ready to face labor or step into motherhood. After leaving the doctor’s office, I raced through a grocery store, filling my cart with anything I could think of. Panic and resolve battled within me as the reality sank in: I couldn’t control this.
Sobriety had prepared me for navigating fear and uncertainty, but this was a new test. Still, deep down, I knew—as I had before—that I would face this unknown and emerge stronger.
That afternoon, the doctor called. “It’s time. Report to the hospital at 9 PM for induction.” Pulling over on the drive home, I let out heavy sobs. This was it.
Two days later, at 7:12 AM on December 21st, Amara was born, and I crossed the threshold into motherhood. Though I’ve grown confident in navigating many areas of my life, I’m reminded daily of how much I still have to learn.
Did you know diapers now have yellow lines that turn blue when wet? Or that feeding a baby while they’re lying flat can lead to ear infections? Breastfeeding, they say, is best—but how can you know if your baby is getting enough? That nebulous uncertainty gnawed at me until a pediatrician appointment confirmed what my inner knowing had been whispering: Amara wasn’t getting enough and it was hurting her. That day, I shifted her nutrition plan, supplementing breast milk with formula to meet her needs.
Before the doctor’s confirmation, I couldn’t explain how I knew something was off. My sister called it mother’s instinct. The truth is, my inner knowing—an unshakable clarity—has guided me time and again when I’ve slowed down enough to listen. Becoming a mother didn’t grant me this gift; my sobriety uncovered it years ago.
As I step into 2025 fumbling with pumps, bottles, and dirty diapers that surprisingly smell delicious (is that weird?), I hold onto this: I have an inner knowing that’s always been with me. My recovery gives me the clarity to tap into it, and in moments of stillness between Amara’s coos and cries, I can close my eyes and listen. That knowing—steady and true—will lead me forward this coming year.
Wishing you and yours a peaceful 2025, thank you for being a part of this journey.
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