I had expected pincers of jealousy to pluck at my heart as I met the newest member of the family.
I remembered the awesome thrill of welcoming new life into the world and I recalled the wondrous pleasure of holding a miracle in my arms. I was aware of the astonishing power of a newborn babe and I remembered how it swept all else aside in its frenzy of joy.
And so, as we travelled through the fog to meet our brand new niece I prepared myself for a feeling of flatness in the face of others' elation. I readied myself for melancholy at the relentless passing of time and I steeled myself for nostalgia over my tiny babe that has grown.
But holding this tiny, perfect girl in my arms and feeling her weightlessness on my knee, I was simply overcome with awe: Awe at the miracle of birth; awe at the fragility of life; awe at the privilege of parenting and awe at how far we'd come.
No, my baby is no longer a newborn. He doesn't squeak like a baby bird or fit easily in the crook of my arm and he doesn't sleep with his knees tucked up to his chest or flail astonishingly small fingers in the air.
But instead he's a little person, with chubby legs, a ready smile, a sociable spirit and an unquenchable passion for life.
And so rather than railing against change and mourning that which we've lost, meeting little Bethany made me look back to where we started and appreciate the tremendous amount that we've gained.