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Emily, the therapist looked straight into my eyes and said, You and your husband are equally to blame
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The night before dawn When the contractions started for Poppy, the clock read a quarter to three.
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**Diary Entry 29th March** I glanced at my husbands supermarket receipt and saw two jars of baby food.
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In the village, they once whispered that old Margaret had lost her wits in her later years.








