And just like that, the waiting became the welcoming.

As I pulled into the driveway, I was welcomed by two rather smitten parents, with their whole little world held safely in their arms.

Six days.

Just six days since they met her.

And somehow, I don’t think either of them could quite remember what life looked like before her.

As though her little heartbeat had been living there all along.

There was something different in their eyes. A little extra sparkle. That look of two people who have fallen completely, hopelessly in love with someone they’ve only just met.

Although perhaps they hadn’t just met her.

Perhaps they’d known her long before.

In the daydreams. the conversations. The little clothes folded away. The space they’d been making for her in their home and in their hearts.

And now, there she was.

Mattea.

All six days of her.

And oh, what a little love she is.

I watched Yara cradle her baby girl with such ease, as though she’d been doing this her whole life.

And sure, Yara has spent years working with little people. She’s always had a beautiful way with children.

But this?

This was different.

This was her little girl.

Her own tiny person, tucked into her arms. Her little heartbeat resting against the one that had carried her for all those months.

The gentle sway as she soothed her cries. The way her fingertips danced ever so gently across her skin. The quiet knowing of a mother who, only six days earlier, had never held this little girl in her arms.

And yet, somehow, it looked as though she always had.

I think that’s what I found most beautiful.

Because I wasn’t just witnessing Mattea’s first days in this big, wide world.

I was witnessing Yara’s first days as her mum.

And then there was Noah.

Oh, Noah.

So gentle. So, kind. So completely taken with this tiny little girl.

The way he held her against his chest, as though every little part of him was saying, you’re home now little one. You’re safe. I’ve got you.

And if you ask me, I think she’s already got him wrapped around that teeny tiny finger of hers.

I can just see it now.

The sneaky chocolates. The adventures that go a little longer than planned. The don’t tell mum moments.

And Noah, absolutely folding at the first flatter of those little eyelashes.

But, amongst all those tiny yawns, sleepy cuddles, little cries and soft whispers, something much bigger was unfolding.

Because six days earlier, Yara and Noah hadn’t just welcomed their daughter into the world.

They’d met two entirely new people too.

Them.

Mum and Dad.

Two people who were learning a whole new kind of love. A love that had been quietly growing for months but suddenly had a face. A name. Ten tiny fingers. And a heartbeat they could now hold against their own.

And I think that’s the magic of these first days.

A little girl discovering the world.

Two parents discovering themselves.

And a home that, somehow, feels as though it had been waiting for the three of them all along.

Once upon a time, there was Yara and Noah.

Then came the waiting.

And now?

There was her.

And just like that, there was a place for three.