Son, mother and baby are one, so only she decidesShe whispered a promise to the wind, knowing the future would hinge on her quiet resolve.

What a child at fortyone! I roared at Emma. At your age women are already grandmothers. Emma, dont be foolish.

Fine, if you think I should just forget about it, I understand that, she snapped back. But have you even thought about the baby? I dont want to be the one dancing at my own wedding with a dripinfusion under my armpit!

What if something happens to her while shes still little? Sort it out, or Ill leave you!

Emma and I had been together for twenty years. Id married her when she was barely out of university, still a freshfaced student.

All those years I considered Emma my closest person, my rock, my protector. I never imagined Id ever turn against her.

Recently a serious family feud erupted, sparked by an unexpected lateinlife pregnancy.

I was absolutely against bringing another child into the mix.

Emma, have you lost your mind? Deciding to become a mother in your forties? We already have three wonderful boysSam is at university, Nick and Dave are finishing Year8. Are you not satisfied with them?

What will people think about us? Will the grandparents go mad?

Emma, Ive dreamed of a daughter all my life, she insisted. If God has sent us a child, why should she not come into this world?

What if its another boy? Will we have to fight for a fifth place? I snapped.

Im sure itll be a girl.

The boys werent much help either. When they heard about a new arrival, the twins Nick and Dave flatout declared they wouldnt share their room with anyone else.

Our eldest, Sam, weighed in as well:

Mum, arent you scared at that age? What if something happens to you?

Itll be fine, I told my son, Im not that old yet!

In fact, Id been through this before. The first time Emma got pregnant again, I wasnt thrilled either.

Sam was three and a half, money was tight. We lived with my parents, and Emma constantly clashed with my motherinlaw.

Then the doctors announced twins, and everything changed. My motherinlaw handed me enough cash for a downpayment on a flat. I became more caring.

Nick and Dave turned out to be calm little chaps, and Emma even got some sleep. Sam was thrilled to have playmates, so he spent his days with his brothers, giving Mum a break.

This time Emma hoped, like waving a magic wand, everything would just fall into place.

But by the third week of pregnancy she started feeling sick at work.

Emma had been a nailtech for over ten years, accustomed to the smell of polish and oils. Suddenly the sight of bright bottles made her gag.

Pills didnt help, her condition worst, and she had to give up work.

She spent entire days in bed, couldnt even wash the dishes. Cleaning became a myth.

We had to buy readymade meals for the family, which didnt sit well with me or the boys.

After Emma quit, the household income dropped sharply.

I, working as an ambulance paramedic, began pulling doubleshifts to make up the shortfall. Our oldest son switched to an evening college course while also working parttime at an electronics store.

Every day Emma could see the disapproval in our familys eyes; even my parents said it was reckless to have a baby at my age.

Neighbors whispered behind us whenever Emma left for the shop. She felt constantly judged.

The second trimester arrived, and Emma had another scan.

The sonographer stared at the monitor, muttering numbers to the nurse. Emma lay perfectly still, afraid to breathe too loudly.

After half an hour she could hold back no longer and asked, Doctor, is it a boy or a girl?

The fetus is female, the doctor replied. But theres a problem.

What problem? Emmas voice trembled.

Dont panic, but I must tell youtheres a neuraltube defect. At 23 weeks the tube should be closed; in your daughter its still open. The child could be severely disabled.

Emma burst into tears.

Can nothing be done? Are there any treatments?

The doctor looked away, silent.

Emma left the room and drifted down the corridor as if time had stopped. She felt detached from everything, as though she were dreaming on the way home, and began sobbing loudly in the car.

After calming down and wiping her eyes, she walked into our flat. I was home, reheating dinner in the microwave while the news played on the kitchen TV. The house was empty of children.

This is the perfect moment to talk, Emma thought.

Emma, I was at the scan today, she started. The doctor said its a girl, but theres a health issue.

What issue? I asked, tense.

A neuraltube defect.

What did DrPeterson say?

Nothing The doctor suggested terminating, but I refused and didnt take the referral. I cant bear that thought; shes still my daughter.

Youre crazy! Do you know what that means? The child could be an invalid, if she survives at all. Tomorrow well go together to another doctor, Ill get you a referral myself.

Im not going anywhere, Max. Dont try to persuade me.

If you wont, you cant count on me. I cant watch you suffer and watch the child suffer too.

I rushed from the table, grabbed a large sports bag from the wardrobe, and started packing.

What are you doing? Emma wailed, Youre abandoning me? Running from the problem? Shes not just my child, shes yours too! How can you be so indifferent?

I wont tolerate this any longer! When you decided to keep the baby, I thought things would be fine. Now I wont indulge your whims!

Did you ever think about our older kids? Have you ever seen a child with a disability? My mother had a son with a congenital heart defect; he lived only six months. I still remember that horror. My mother stopped wanting more children after that. Ill take the boys with me.

I slung the bag over my shoulder, threw on my coat and walked out. Emma couldnt stop me.

My mother, Sheila, was shocked to see me on the doorstep with my belongings.

What happened? Did you argue with Emma?

We fought Im filing for divorce. She wants to bring a sick child into the world, and I dont care about her opinion.

Son, a mother and a child are one, you cant decide just by yourself. Calm down, have a cup of tea, she said, pointing to the kitchen.

I sat, sighed deeply, and asked, Mum, would you have given birth to Ian if youd known he was seriously ill?

Of course! Id have hoped for a miracle. Back then they didnt have the heart surgeries we have now. And ultrasound isnt infallible, is it? Doctors do make mistakes.

I remembered last year when our neighbour, DrPeterson, told his wife his son had a heart defect, yet the boy was born perfectly healthy. The specialist had a pile of complaints against him. I decided Id get to the bottom of it myself.

The next morning I drove to the clinic. I went up to the second floor where the ultrasound rooms were, but the doors were locked. I knocked on the next room and asked the nurse.

Hes not in today, she said. All appointments were moved; the machine broke again. Its the third time this month.

The chief doctor was arguing with the supplier; theyd bought a cheap unit that kept failing. They were waiting for a replacement from the regional health board.

Doubt gnawed at me. A former colleague of mine worked at a private clinic, so I arranged to take Emma there.

When I returned from the shop, Emma didnt expect to find me at home. I looked at her seriously and said, Pack your things, were going to the private clinic. Lets see what they say.

She quickly dressed, grabbed her NHS card, and we walked out in silence.

At the private centre, they took Emma in almost immediately. The female doctor stared at the monitor for a long time, then said, All parameters are normal; the baby is developing right on schedule. I see no defects. Shes a healthy, active girl. Would you like to hear her heartbeat?

Both of us nodded. I felt tears sting my eyes. Emma asked about the previous report.

They told us there was a neuraltube defect, she said.

The tube is closed, the baby is fine, the doctor replied, printing out a report. Here you go.

Relief washed over Emma; the weight lifted from her shoulders. I pulled her into a tight hug and kissed her cheek. I felt a lightness I hadnt felt in months.

Emma went for a few more thorough checkups after that, each time receiving the same clean bill of health.

Our daughter was born perfectly healthy. At the discharge, all our friends and relatives were present, even those who had once urged us to terminate.

She looks just like you, my mother said, cradling the newborn. Look at those blue eyes. Well done, Max! Im proud of you, son.

I fell in love with my little girl the instant I saw her, and I spent every spare minute with her.

Maybe you could watch TV with me sometime, Emma teased, instead of running round with Darby all day.

Later, I laughed, Darby and I have a lot to do. Right, love?

Our older boys, whod once protested the idea of a baby, now kept a strict schedule of walks and playtime with their sister.

Emma left the child with them, knowing theyd look after Darby while we all got some rest.