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Instead of joyful tears, my baby made me cry for far more tragic reasons...



Heart pounding, hands shaking, my legs buckled as I fell to the floor in agony. The pain tearing through my chest was spreading throughout my body.
‘No!’ I sobbed, as black spots danced before my eyes and my hands dropped protectively to my swollen stomach. ‘No, no, no…’
‘I’m sorry,’ the doctor repeated. ‘There was nothing we could do.’
That was the moment my life changed forever. Seven months earlier I’d been shocked and a little scared to discover I was pregnant. I was only 17.
But my fiancé Tom Duffield’s blue eyes had lit up. ‘It’ll be amazing. Our own little family.’
He couldn’t wait to be a dad.
Now, here I was, slumped on the floor of a private room in the same hospital I was due to give birth in just two months later. A wave of nausea swept over me.
Tom’s dream of being a dad would never come true…
‘He only went to the shop,’ I croaked, as tears streaked down my face. ‘He can’t be dead.’
My fiancé had been on his way to buy a pint of milk. Such a simple, everyday thing.
Then he’d been stabbed in the street by one of his best mates.

Read what happened in this weeks Full House!

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