After I Got Pregnant, My Family Wants Me to Abort

My husband and I couldn’t get pregnant after we got married, and we really wanted a baby of our own,

We tried IVF, and after three failed rounds I finally got pregnant,

But then my husband and my parents suddenly started pressuring me to get an abortion.

...

"Congratulations, Mrs. Carter. You're pregnant. All the indicators look normal."

I froze. The paper cup in my hand nearly slipped to the floor.

"Really?" My voice trembled. "It actually worked?"

Dr. Martinez smiled and handed me the test results. "Yes. The baby is healthy. HCG levels are normal, progesterone is normal, and the ultrasound shows good embryonic development."

I took the paper, my hands shaking so badly I could barely hold it. Tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them.

Five years.

I remembered the first failure, how David had held me in the parking lot while I sobbed. The second time...the third time. We'd stopped talking about baby names. Stopped looking at nursery furniture online. Stopped hoping.

But now, this thin piece of paper told me a miracle had happened.

We're actually going to be parents.

I got home around three in the afternoon. I sat on the couch, reading the test results over and over. Each time I looked at those numbers, my heart beat faster.

How happy will David be?

I imagined his reaction a hundred different ways.

I stood up, too excited to sit still. Three hours. Still three hours until he got home.

I put the report on the coffee table, then immediately picked it up again. Should I text him? No. I wanted to see his face. I needed to see the surprise and joy light up his eyes.

At six-thirty, I heard the lock turn.

I jumped off the couch and rushed to the door.

"David!" I called out excitedly. "You're home! I have amazing news!"

David set down his briefcase. He looked tired. "What news?"

I grabbed the test results, tears already streaming down my face. "I'm pregnant! David, I'm pregnant! Look! Everything's normal!"

I waited for him to hug me. Waited for him to shout with joy. Waited for the same happiness I felt to light up his eyes.

But he didn't.

David took the paper, his eyes scanning the numbers. His expression changed.

From confusion to shock, then to cold.

My smile froze. "David? What's wrong?"

He suddenly grabbed my wrist.

"Come on." His voice was ice. "We're going to the hospital. Now."

I thought I'd misheard. "What? David, what are you saying?"

"The hospital." He stared at me with eyes I didn't recognize. "You need to terminate this pregnancy."

"Why?!" I struggled to pull my wrist free. "We waited five years! The baby is healthy, you saw the results!"

He gripped tighter. "Stop talking. This baby cannot be born."

Fear flooded through me like ice water.

I shoved him away and ran for the bedroom.

I locked the door and pressed my back against it, trembling.

"Amy!" David pounded on the door. "Open up!"

My hands shook so badly I could barely dial.

"Mom!" I broke down the second she answered. "Help me! I'm pregnant! David's lost his mind, he wants me to get an abortion!"

"What?!" Linda's voice filled with fury. "You're pregnant? That bastard! We're coming right now!"

"Amy!" David's voice grew louder. "Open this door! Don't make me break it down!"

I hung up and curled into a ball in the corner of the bed, hugging my knees, shaking all over.

Why? Why is he doing this?

I replayed the scene in my mind.

Is something wrong with the baby?

But the test results said everything was normal!

Then why? Why does he want to—

Outside, David's voice alternated between soft and threatening.

"Amy, please. Listen to me. This baby really can't be born."

The gentleness in his voice made it worse somehow.

Then came the pounding. BAM! BAM! BAM!

"I'm coming in! Amy!"

"Stay away from me!" I screamed. "You're insane!"

The doorframe started to shake.

He was ramming it. Actually ramming the door with his shoulder.

I clutched my phone, pressed against the wall as far from the door as I could get. My heart hammered with each impact.

CRACK!

The lock broke. The door flew open and slammed against the wall.

David stood in the doorway, breathing hard, eyes wild. For a split second, we just stared at each other. Then he moved.

He crossed the room in three strides and grabbed my wrist.

"Let go of me!" I screamed, trying to twist away. He dragged me toward the door, his grip like iron. I grabbed the bedpost with my free hand, fingers slipping on the wood. "David! Stop!"

"You're coming with me!" He yanked harder, pulling me off balance. "We're going to the hospital. Now."

My nails dug into the bedpost, "No! Let me go!"

He was stronger than me. Always had been. But I'd never been afraid of that before. Now, feeling him pull me toward the door with that cold determination in his eyes, I was terrified.

Then, from downstairs, a roar.

"David! What the hell are you doing?!"

Dad's voice!