“We can manage two, and we’ll handle a third. I’ll take on extra work. Unless… do you want to terminate the pregnancy?” Emily’s husband asked bluntly.
Emily had felt exhausted for days. There was so much to do, yet all she wanted was to sit still—or better yet, lie down and never move. The thought of food made her nauseous. A pregnancy test confirmed her suspicions.
Two years out of maternity leave, barely free from nappies and babygrows, and now this… She was upset. Harry had just turned five, and little Sophie had moved up to Year 2. They needed her attention, but soon she’d be consumed by a newborn. Would they understand? Would they resent their new sibling?
“Of course, a child is a blessing. ‘Where there’s room in the heart, there’s room in the home,’ as they say. But these are uncertain times—though when have they ever been easy? Women had babies even during the war. What will I tell work? That I’ll be off on maternity leave soon, then constantly calling in sick?
“And how can I even work with three kids? We’ll be living on Daniel’s salary alone…” Emily wrestled with doubts, delaying the moment she’d “surprise” her husband. She still had time to think.
Just last week, her boss had asked if anyone was planning maternity leave or resigning. Understandable, given their mostly female team. Emily had assured him she was done—a boy and a girl, no more babies. And now this.
“Why am I obsessing over work? Family comes first—jobs will always be there…” Time passed, but Emily couldn’t settle her thoughts.
“Are you ill? You’re pale, and you keep zoning out. I’ve asked three times what we’re getting Harry and Sophie for their birthdays—you’re not listening. What’s wrong?” Daniel finally asked one evening after dinner.
So Emily told him. He paused, then asked, “What are we going to do?”
*We.* Not *you.* She loved him for that. They’d decide together. Shame pricked her for trying to shoulder it alone. The weight lifted slightly as she shared her fears.
“We manage two; we’ll manage three,” Daniel said firmly.
“But I’ll be on leave. We’ll rely on your salary. Who knows when—or *if*—I’ll go back. Child benefit helps, but…”
“We’ll cope. I’ll pick up extra shifts. Or… do you want an abortion?” he asked outright.
“I don’t know,” Emily admitted. “You’ll be working nonstop, I’ll be drowning in nappies. Life will vanish…”
“Life vanishes just as fast with two. We’ve got time to think, yeah?”
“A bit.”
“Then let’s not rush. But I think you’ve already decided. Haven’t you?”
“How will we all fit in this tiny flat?” Emily eyed the cramped two-bedroom Daniel’s gran had left them.
“I’ll talk to Mum and Dad. Propose swapping—their place has three rooms. Dad offered when Sophie was born.”
Emily bit her tongue. Predictably, her mother-in-law bristled.
“She got pregnant on *purpose* to snatch our flat! You’re wrapped around her finger!”
“*My* idea, Mum. Emily had nothing to do with it.”
“So *you’d* kick us out in our old age? We’re settled here! At our age, moving’s a nightmare. Selfish, the lot of you!” She clutched her chest theatrically.
“Mum, *enough.* Fine, we’ll figure something else.”
“‘Figure it out’—ha! Or she could terminate. Two’s plenty these days.”
Daniel left seething. Emily read his face and didn’t ask.
The abortion deadline loomed, but Emily swung between resignation and terror—nappies, sleepless nights, stretched too thin. Then she dreamt of a five-year-old girl skipping with a wicker basket, humming.
“What’s inside?” Emily asked. The girl peered in, eyes wide with sorrow. The basket was empty.
The dream haunted her.
“Made a decision?” Daniel asked later.
“Yes—no.” She told him the dream.
“Just a dream. A little helper, that’s all.”
*He’s so good,* she thought. *I’ll keep the baby. With him, I can do this.*
Then they visited friends—a lavish home, the wife stunning. But no children.
“Let them play! I’d give anything for laughter in this house,” the woman sighed.
“Have you tried IVF?” Emily asked.
“Three rounds. I’d adopt tomorrow, but my husband…”
That night, Emily decided. She’d keep the baby. Relief washed over her.
Days later, her mother-in-law arrived unsubtly. “So? Did you terminate?”
“Too late,” Emily lied.
“Knew it. Two not enough? Ever heard of contraception? Daniel’s working doubles—look at him! And you’re the size of a house!”
“*You* had one child but look like you birthed a rugby team,” Emily snapped.
“How *dare*—!” The woman whirled to Daniel. “You’ll let her speak to me like that?”
“You started it. We didn’t ask your opinion.”
“Fine! Don’t come crying to *me*!” The door slammed.
As if she’d ever helped.
Days later, Emily left work early for her antenatal appointment. Autumn leaves clung to puddles under a grey sky. She imagined summer picnics, the baby in her arms.
Then—shouts. Teens clogged the pavement. An e-scooter veered behind her.
She never saw it coming.
At the hospital, the doctor met Daniel. “We couldn’t save the baby.”
“God’s punishing me,” Emily whispered when she woke. Harry and Sophie clung to her.
“Don’t blame yourself. That scooter idiot—they should ban those death traps.”
“How will you manage?”
“Mum’ll help. Just rest.”
But Emily couldn’t. Nights filled with the dream-girl’s empty basket—a warning she’d ignored.
After discharge, she flinched at every passing scooter. Headaches gnawed at her, reminders of the child she’d feared—then mourned.
Funny, how losing what once terrified you leaves only regret.
Maybe the universe heard her doubts and answered. Or maybe accidents aren’t accidents at all.
