Fuck, fuck, fuck. The 2nd of July was the fateful day, a Monday of all days. The Sunday night I did a test and it had a very very pale line so I went to see J and he was convinced it wasn't a "proper" line.

Ahhhh. Reassurance. Denial. It felt great.

Next day, booked doctors appointment and he confirmed my biggest fear. Pregnancy. Fuck.

Since then I feel like my world has completely fallen apart. I've been to Marie Stopes (twice), counselling, maternity section on Topshop and have all but moved into J's house.

(Just to explain, J is no longer my boyfriend, we split up due to creative differences. His not mine. However, we were maintaining a "fuck buddy" like relationship. Now we're just held together - in who knows what capacity, friends? - by disaster)

I now need to decide what to do. I am totally and utterly anti-abortion and try as I might - and believe me when I say I've tried - I can't shake my belief that abortion is murder. Can I kill my own child? Can I NOT kill my own child?

What will I do if I have it? How will I live with the guilt if I don't? How will it impact J?

This isn't fair. I don't deserve this, I have always been religious about contraception. Why do I have to be the 2 in 100? I used to think that 98% was a good enough percentage but not for me anymore. Not that I am ever having sex again. EVER.

I think I want this baby but I have no clue on where to go from here. Sigh.