Sitting across from the doctor with my partner Barry, my belly was filled with nerves.
It should have been a time of joy and excitement, of making plans, buying baby grows and Moses baskets. Instead, the doctor’s face was grave and serious.
‘We’ve had your 12 week blood test results back,’ he said.
‘Oh?’ I said.
‘I’m afraid there are markers for Down’s syndrome.’
I paused. I think he expected me to break down, to cry, or to ask why.
I didn’t.
‘So what? It’s our baby. We’ll love it and keep it whatever,’ I said.
Barry nodded.
‘She’s right. We’ll love our baby no matter what,’ he said.
The doctor offered us further tests. There were more blood tests we could do, or a procedure called an amniocentesis which would involve sticking a needle into my womb to take a sample of amniotic
