'I'm pregnant. I hate being pregnant.' Oh my god, she hated being pregnant. She hated everything. She was still in bed but she had just managed to throw off the covers to see if the sun had risen over the horizon. It hadn't. Not really. It was still dark but that was not the problem, it was just her blinds were closed and there was nothing to open them for, not even a mirror in the room. She groaned, rubbed her eyes and tried to work out if the sun would rise or not. She decided it was so dark she couldn't see the difference, so she pulled the sheets back over her. She wasn't happy. Not at all. It was sleepless night number four. Her baby had kicked her so many times since she'd woken up for the day she had hobbled downstairs and made a cup of tea. She was now four cups and five hours later, not changed since she'd woken up and she was finding it hard to believe in anything except 'sleep'. "I hate being pregnant." She said, sitting on the phone. "I know," said the disapproving voice, "but you're having our baby." "That doesn't make me love it." "Of course not. It's not about that." "I'm beginning to think otherwise." "See if you can get some sleep." "I tried that." she cried, "It didn't work." She sighed. "Baby. We'll be there soon." "Don't patronise me." She snapped, "I hate being pregnant, why are you even here?" "Because you should have told us. You should have told us you were sick." "I'm not sick." She said, "Just pregnant. Just in pain. That's why I take the drugs. That's why I had the operation. So I wouldn't be inthis pain all the time." "The doctors said the damage was irreversible." "I know it was." she said, "That's why I did it." "I know that's why you did it but I don't agree with it." "Well it's not front of you. I did it. It's done." "You wouldn't have done it if I'd argued you out of it."