Now, any other time or any other normal person, would think “wow, that’s awful, I really hope that would never happen to me” and get on with their day. But during super COVID Sundays that doesn’t happen. Suddenly I was consumed with an enormous and overwhelming fear that this awful story was happening to me right now. Despite not having sex in what, 8, 9 weeks? And having had the Mirena Coil for the past year, I suddenly believed I was in fact pregnant with no signs. I immediately ordered two pregnancy tests online and spent the rest of the day spiralling into a hole thinking my life was over, it would be too late for a possible abortion and then I’d have to have a child. There was no way I could do a (SPOILER) Peggy-from-Mad-Men and give the baby away post-birth. I ate an enormous amount of pasta, listened to Boris Johnson address the country and tried to calm down until the test arrived. I took the test. It was negative. But still, I couldn’t rest.