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