THEY′RE AFTER ME…..
Staring intently at the pregnancy test, I held my breath.
Slowly, two blue lines started to appear. Positive.
My heart sank. I showed the stick to my husband David, 34.
‘Oh,’ he said.
We were already parents to a little girl, three-year-old Gracie, who we adored.
But this pregnancy hadn’t been planned, and the timing couldn’t be worse.
I’d started at university just two days before.
I was studying to be a midwife, and the course was intense – I was juggling studying full-time, doing practical work experience and looking after Gracie.
David worked as an officer in the merchant navy, which meant he was away for long periods of time.
A new baby was the last thing I wanted.
‘What do you want to do?’ David asked.
‘I don’t know,’ I said.
Terminating the
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