It's amazing how within three minutes your entire life can change, three minutes and two little lines of pink dye. It occurred to me, as I sat perched on my toilet seat, the pregnancy test held loosely in hand just how ironic my shopping must have seen to the silent check out girl, the usual groceries, a packet of crisps, a box of Tampax and a Tesco value pregnancy test. I'd told myself at the time it was just a precaution, obviously I wasn't really pregnant, that's why I'd bought the Tampax, but now, as I stared in disbelief at those two little lines and the box of Tampax sitting on the sink, I knew I'd been deluding myself. But despite the fact that I knew now I'd been deluding myself, those few hours ago I had genuinely believed that the result would be negative and within a few days it would all be forgotten about and I'd be back to cursing the man (because I'm sure it must have been one) who invented Tampax and complaining about cramps.

I checked the instructions again, I'd read them at least ten times now just to make sure that two lines really did mean positive and I hadn't read something wrong. No matter how many times I read the instructions, the outcome was still the same. Like it or not, I was pregnant. I tried to convince myself that it might be wrong, surely that could happen? Things are wrongly diagnosed every day and how much did I really trust a value range pregnancy test? But at the back of my mind I knew that the two little pink lines had told me what I knew all along, I really was pregnant. The word stuck in my head like something alien, I still couldn't quite get to grips with the enormity of it all. I couldn't feel a baby inside me, I didn't really feel pregnant, whatever that felt like, but at the same time, I had known all along. I wondered if it was a boy or a girl, then chided myself for such thoughts. Did it matter if it was a boy or a girl? Was I going to let 'it' live long enough to find out?

I felt tears prick at my eyes and found myself surprised at them. I'd never wanted a baby and had always said that if the worst happened, I would abort. It would be that simple. Yet, sitting on a toilet, my knickers still around my ankles and the test still in my hand, I didn't know if I could do it, I didn't think it would be that simple. Already my head had planned out baby blankets and brightly coloured toys and somewhere deep inside me, I could feel a love for this unborn, unknown entity which had rudely rooted itself into my womb without permission. Could I as easily as I would throw away this test, throw away this child? I gulped back more tears. In the space of five minutes I felt I'd went through every emotion possible, disbelief, anger, love and now as I stood up and carefully put the test back into the packet then into my pocket, I felt scared. Scared of what people would say, of what the father of this unwanted intrusion in my life would say.

I'd been with Simon for little under a year, we had a good relationship and I enjoyed his company. I'm not ashamed to admit that on a physical level Simon held me enchanted although now I cursed each and every coupling we had ever had, even the precautions taken then had not been enough. I'd always, always been careful, but obviously, not careful enough as those two lines had mockingly shown. I wondered how he would take it; we were serious, but not serious in the way my parents had hoped. We weren't talking marriage, and certainly we had never spoke of children, yet now the unthinkable had happened and both those options would very soon be hot topics of conversation. I didn't even know if I loved him, the burning surge of love and protection that I had felt towards my own little parasite, I'd never felt anything like that for Simon. I liked him and but I didn't know if I could be devoted to him or spend the rest of my life with him.

I dried my tears and blotted my eyes which betrayed me in a swollen red mess. Simon would be home any minute, we'd planned a night in with a takeaway, I supposed now those plans would be cancelled as I told of my, our, little secret. I felt uneasy, I didn't know what he would say or more to the point, what I wanted him to say. Part of me still stuck by what I'd always said that until I was ready for a baby, I wouldn't have one. If that meant aborting, then so be it. But the other part of me pointed out that those words hadn't been spoken when I was in the situation, that now I actually was pregnant I should re-assess my take on it all. I didn't realise that I'd feel something towards 'it', that within minutes of seeing the proof that I was pregnant I'd have visions of giggling babies and tender moments cradling my child. I didn't realise I'd love it so suddenly and so ferociously, I didn't realise that there might be a scenario where I wouldn't want to let 'it' die.

The door clicked downstairs and I heard him taking off his jacket and whistling quietly to himself. I stood frozen in the bathroom, unable to go down and potentially destroy our relationship, at the very least turn our world upside down. I didn't want to be pregnant, to have to tell him, no matter what I felt towards this child. I could feel the tears starting again and I wiped them angrily, I couldn't understand why this had to happen to me, why things like this always happened to me. My life wasn't perfect, but it was good, I had a nice job, close friends, a loving boyfriend and a lovely house I shared with him. I didn't want things to change, I was only twenty I was too young to have a child, especially when at times I still felt like a child myself. I didn't know how I'd cope, what if Simon threw me out? I didn't know where I'd go. How could I raise a child? I could barely look after myself at the best of times.

''Sarah?''

Sighing, I took one last glance in the mirror at my swollen eyes and blotchy cheeks then left the bathroom and headed to the kitchen, where I could hear Simon raking through some drawers, undoubtedly for some takeaway menus, I felt the guilt rising up in me as I walked into the kitchen and stood silently watching him. I still didn't know what I wanted to say, I'd considered saying nothing at all but I knew I couldn't hide this from him, or fabricate some tall tale as to why I'd been sitting in the bathroom for the past hour in a daze of shock and tears. So I just stood in silence, one hand fingering the test in my pocket and the other unconsciously laying flat across my stomach. He sensed my presence and turned round. As he took in my tear stained face his happy, carefree smile faded, "What's wrong? Sarah?" he exclaimed as he rushed forwards and took me into his arms.

I relished the comfort of his embrace and sniffled quietly into his sleeve. He held me tightly and in that moment I suspected that I could love him, as I pulled away I stared at his face, noting the concern and his open love for me, I wondered what type of father he'd make. Although I still could find neither the words nor the voice to speak, I mutely handed him the box with the test in it and watched as he opened it and then compared the test to the instructions. His eyes widened and mirrored the shock that I had seen in my own, I fought back tears, I knew that the next few minutes would tell all. The next few minutes would shape not only my life, but that of the barely begun life which had by chance been made created by us. I felt dizzy with the thoughts in my head, I wanted to babble about abortion, adoption and all our choices, about how I'd raise the baby alone, how he didn't have to help, about maternity leave and finding somewhere to live but before I could start, he pressed a finger against my lips, perhaps sensing my desperation and my fear. I lowered my eyes, preparing to accept the worst then he smiled, "I'm going to be a daddy then?''

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