“We can manage two, and we’ll handle a third. I’ll pick up extra shifts. Or do you want to terminate the pregnancy?” her husband asked bluntly.
Emily had felt exhausted for days. There was so much to do, yet all she wanted was to sit—no, lie down—and not move. Even the thought of food turned her stomach. A pregnancy test confirmed her suspicion.
It had only been two years since she returned from maternity leave, barely recovered from nappies and babygrows, and now this… She was upset. Jack would be five soon, and Lily had just started Year Two. The children needed her care and attention, but a new baby would take up so much of her. Would they understand? Would they resent their new sibling?
“A baby is a blessing,” she told herself. “Where there’s love, there’s a way.” What else did people say in these situations? Still, times were uncertain—when had they ever been easy? Women had babies even during wars. What would she say at work? That she’d be going on leave again, taking sick days for every sniffle?
And how could she even keep working with three children? The family would grow, but they’d be living on only Tom’s salary… Emily wrestled with her doubts, reluctant to “surprise” her husband just yet. She still had time to think.
Not long ago, her boss had asked if anyone was planning maternity leave or quitting. Understandable—most of the team were women. Emily had assured him, like the others, that she had her perfect pair—a boy and a girl—and had no plans for another. And now this.
“Why am I even worrying about work? Family comes first, jobs will always be there…” Time passed, but Emily couldn’t settle on a decision, turning it over in her mind again and again.
“You feeling alright? You’re pale, and you’ve been miles away. I’ve asked three times what we’re getting for Henry and Sophie, but you’re not listening,” Tom finally said one evening after dinner.
Emily told him everything. Tom was silent for a moment before asking, “What are we going to do?”
He didn’t say *what are you going to do?* but *we.* That was why she loved him. He wouldn’t leave her to struggle alone. She felt a pang of guilt for keeping it to herself. A weight lifted from her shoulders as she shared her fears.
“We can manage two, and we’ll handle a third,” Tom said firmly.
“But I’ll be on leave. We’ll have to live on your salary. Who knows when—or if—I’ll go back. There’s child benefit, but…” Emily hesitated.
“We’ll get by. I’ll take extra work. Or do you want to terminate?” he asked directly.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “You’ll be working all day, I’ll be running around after the kids. Life will just… slip away.”
“Life slips away whether it’s two or three. Fine. Do we have time to think?”
“Yes, a little.”
“Then let’s not rush. We’ll talk again later—though I reckon you’ve already decided. Haven’t you?”
“How will we all fit in this tiny flat?” Emily glanced around the cramped two-bedroom they’d inherited from Tom’s grandmother.
“I’ll talk to my parents. Suggest swapping—they’ve got three bedrooms between the two of them. Dad offered when we had Lily.”
Emily said nothing, but she doubted Tom’s mother would agree. And as expected, her mother-in-law bristled.
“She’s only pregnant to get the bigger flat. You let her walk all over you.”
“Mum, it was my idea. Emily had nothing to do with it.”
“So you want to leave us scrambling in our old age? After all we’ve done? You don’t care about us, do you?” She clutched her chest dramatically.
“Mum, I only asked. Fine, forget it.”
“That’s right, forget it. Or better yet—why not just terminate? Two’s plenty these days. Save everyone the hassle.”
Tom left without another word. When he returned, his expression told Emily everything. They avoided the subject after that. Some days, she warmed to the idea of another child—then panicked at the thought of nappies, sleepless nights, being pulled in every direction.
As the deadline for termination neared, she still wavered. Then she dreamed of a little girl skipping through the flat, humming, a wicker basket like Red Riding Hood’s in her hands.
“What’s in there?” Emily asked. The girl peered inside, then lifted sorrowful eyes. The basket was empty.
At first, Emily took it as a sign they’d have a daughter. But why empty? The dream haunted her.
“So, have you decided?” Tom asked one evening.
“Yes—no.” She told him about the dream.
“It’s just a dream. Means we’ll have a little helper.”
*He’s so good to me,* Emily thought. *I should be grateful he’s not pushing me to terminate.* She leaned into him.
Another thing tipped the scales. At a friend’s birthday, their home was picture-perfect, the hostess glowing like a magazine cover—but childless. When Jack and Lily ran wild, Sophie stopped Emily from scolding them.
“Let them play. What I wouldn’t give for that sound. If I could, I’d have as many as God sent.”
“Couldn’t you try IVF?” Emily asked.
“You think we haven’t?” Sophie sighed. “I’d adopt tomorrow, but my husband still hopes… Once he’s ready, we’ll take two—a boy and a girl.”
That settled it. Emily would keep the baby.
Then her mother-in-law swooped in, blunt as ever. “So, did you sort it?”
“It’s too late,” Emily said, though it wasn’t.
“Figures. Two not enough? Ever heard of contraception? What, you’ll just pop them out like a rabbit? Tom’s running himself ragged—two jobs, barely eating. Think of him for once. And look at you—you’ll not fit through the door soon. Breeding poverty, are we?”
“You had one and still act like you raised the whole football team,” Emily snapped.
“How dare—!” Her mother-in-law turned to Tom. “You’ll let her speak to me like that?”
“You insulted her first. It’s our choice, our family. We’ll manage without your help.”
“Fine! Don’t come crying to me!” She stormed out.
As if she’d ever helped.
Tom squeezed Emily’s hand. “Ignore her.”
But the words festered.
Emily booked her antenatal appointment. Summer waned, rain replacing the sun. Fallen leaves drowned in puddles as she walked, picturing next summer—picnics, day trips with all three children. She’d use the child trust fund for…
A group of teens blocked the pavement, laughing loudly. Emily stepped aside—just as an e-scooter swerved past them. She didn’t even scream before it hit her.
When Tom and the kids reached the hospital, Emily was still groggy from surgery.
“We couldn’t save the baby,” the doctor said quietly.
“I’m sorry,” Emily whispered later. “God’s punishing me for doubting.”
Tom shook his head. “Don’t blame yourself. And they’ll never catch that reckless rider. These scooters shouldn’t even be on pavements.”
Recovery was slow. Nights were hardest, the dream lingering—the little girl’s sad eyes, the empty basket. Only now did Emily understand. She’d known, really, but refused to admit it.
By the time she left hospital, autumn had stripped the trees bare. She inhaled the damp air, eyes lifting to the grey sky in silent apology.
Now, every e-scooter sent her flinching to the kerb. Headaches reminded her of the loss—the child she’d feared, then longed for.
Isn’t that always the way? Fear, hesitation, indecision… until what you dreaded is gone, and all that’s left is regret.
Nothing’s a coincidence. Maybe the universe heard Emily’s doubts and acted for her.
