This New Year’s Eve is different to every other.

This New Year’s Eve is the night before our special year. After

so much sadness and struggle over the past several years, this

New Year’s Eve is one of hope and promise.

Over the past few years we had created a new tradition

with some friends who live in the city. We’d head to town and

enjoy a late barbecue meal in their back yard, and then around

half past eleven we’d fill up our glasses with bubbly and go

to the beach to watch the city skyline light up with fireworks

at midnight. We considered ourselves brave – alcohol is not

permitted on the streets or the beach but we defied council

by-laws in favour of a good time.

At midnight, kisses would be doled out liberally and resolutions

set. I’d close my eyes, and say a little prayer: please, make this year

a good one! Maybe this year we will be blessed

with a baby. But one year after another drew to a close and we

found ourselves further and further from our dream of having

a family of our own. One particular festive eve I confided in

the host and one of my oldest friends, ‘I can’t do this anymore!

I am so tired! It is too hard! I have been holding on to this hope

for such a long time and I simply can’t keep holding on to it

anymore.’