Three sleepless nights have gnawed at me like a starving beast, leaving me hollow and trembling. Guilt claws at my ribs, sharp and unrelenting, as I teeter on the edge of an impossible choiceduty or self-preservation. Im eight months pregnant, and the life I know is about to shatter. Since marrying James, I left my childhood home in a quiet Yorkshire village far behind. My parents stayed, and visits are rarecounted on one handwhether they come to us in Manchester or we make the long trek back.
The other evening, Mum and I sat in my cramped kitchen over steaming mugs of tea. She spoke of her own struggles when I was bornhow shed nearly drowned in exhaustion, how only Grans steady hands kept her from breaking. Her words carved straight into me. I saw myself in her memories: terrified, unprepared, holding a newborn with no idea what to do. Before I could stop myself, I blurted, Mum, why dont you stay with us after the baby comes? Just for a bit, to help me find my feet. Her face lit up like Id handed her the moon. Then she dropped the bombshell: Oh, love, your dad and I would *adore* a year with you! Well let out our cottage to help with your bills.
Ice flooded my veins. A *year*? With Dad? Id only asked for herfor a fortnight, maybe a month. Not this. I adore my father, but the image seized me: him on the terrace, cigarette smoke curling into the nursery window. With a baby? I couldnt bear the thought of those tiny lungs choking on it. And winterhed leave the door gaping, letting in drafts while my child coughed in the cold.
Then theres the rest. Dad, restless, would blare old war films at all hours or drag James to the pub till midnight. Id need James *here*, not pulled away when Im drowning. A year of noise, smoke, chaosmy chest tightened like a vice.
I forced the words out: Mum, its just you Im asking. And only for a month. Her face fell. Without your father, I wont come at all, she snapped, then left me in suffocating silence.
Now, I lie awake, James steady breaths beside me, while guilt and fear wage war. Am I selfish? Mum only wants to help. But my pulse screams *no*I must shield my child, my home, this fragile new life. Yet what if Im wrong? What if Im robbing her of the joy she deserves? Or is this the line I must hold before Im swallowed whole? The questions loop, endless, dragging me under. I need an answera lifelinebefore the dark swallows me completely.
