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Nayomie Heathcote, 14 Apr '13

I look around my little first floor flat. It's not a lot but it's home. The kitchen is open and next to the living room which means even though he can't bear to tear himself away from the television when his favourite program is on, he can still half-listen to me. Close enough. He switches off the TV as I set his dinner in front of him, carefully treading around a rogue train that our little bundle of joy missed when tidying the living room before bed. This is the best part of my day... our day. When we make a little time to enjoy a meal and have a conversation. My turn to cook tonight so we're having burgers. I fancied a little indulgence and the mince was on offer.

He asks how my day was and I tell him about finally finishing my essay for the Open University degree I'm doing; psychology with a focus on childhood development. He looks at me, genuinely interested and then when I finish he tells me to make sure I “don't shrink our kid”. We laugh and eat and he tells me about the promotion he is interviewing for tomorrow and how nervous he is. It's sweet to see him like this. I like that he can be uncertain in front of me. I tell him we have a parent's evening next week but we shouldn't worry because our child takes after their mother when it comes to school work so the good marks and smiley face stickers are rolling in. He laughs. I love it when he laughs. He clears the plates and starts washing up whilst I pick out our film for the evening. I can tell he needs to relax so I pick Shaun of the Dead. Just the right amount of zombies and comedy to keep him smiling. We cuddle and watch and laugh and begin to doze. At 11 o'clock we decide to turn in and go to our bed and fall asleep together...

Three minutes have passed. Deep breath.

Not pregnant.