I tricked my husband into having kids…if he finds out it could blow my family apart

SHE has two perfect children and a high-earning career, but Helena*, 35, is hiding a huge secret from her partner . . . 

WATCHING my partner Jack* pushing our two little girls on a swing, I feel a surge of pride in our brood.

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With two beautiful daughters and a partner who is a doting dad, I finally feel like I have it all.

But just as I begin to settle into that contented happiness, a familiar sense of dread creeps in.

Because if Jack, 35, ever found out my dark secret, our perfect existence together could all come crashing down around me.

The truth is, my family was built on lies, as I tricked Jack into being a father.

I met him on Tinder when we were 24, and family was the furthest thought from my mind.

We had a lot in common — we both had high-flying banking careers and worked in the City.

We met for a drink and neither of us wanted anything serious — just a bit of a fling and a few dates.

It was how I usually conducted relationships.

I’d never been with someone for longer than a few months.

I didn’t want to be tied down, so I was relieved when, on our first date at a fancy wine bar, he told me how much he loved travelling and how he could think of nothing worse than being tied down with children.

“I feel exactly the same,” I admitted, and I wasn’t lying.

I was adamant I’d never have a family as I loved my career and disposable income too much.

I’d take myself off on far-flung holidays with friends, eat out at fancy Michelin-starred restaurants whenever I wanted and buy expensive designer clothes.

A few weeks in, I felt myself falling for Jack.

He was gorgeous and the sex was great.

But we’d also stay up talking for hours.

We had so much in common and he was so romantic.

When we first got together, I’d mentioned how much I wanted to visit New York.

‘I feigned shock’

The weekend before my 25th birthday, he turned up at my office on Friday evening with a suitcase and my passport.

“We’re off to the airport,” he grinned.

He also surprised me with trips to Paris, Rome and Vienna.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he’d told me over dinner six months into our relationship.

“Me too,” I replied because, although I was initially looking for only a fling, it felt so right with Jack.

We then had a deep conversation about how we were serious about each other, but we loved our care-free lives of luxury.

We talked about all the things we’d do together — go to Japan, dive in the Great Barrier Reef, travel America for a year.

I decided in that moment to secretly stop taking my pill. Within six months, in May 2021, I fell pregnant.

Helena

That life, with Jack, was all I thought I wanted.

But then, as I approached my 30th birthday, my biological clock started ticking loudly.

Most of my friends were having children and I began feeling as though I wanted this life, too.

It was a shock.

I no longer wanted to be the fun auntie, I wanted a child of my own to love.

I’d never want to leave Jack, but he’d stated strongly that kids weren’t for him.

I thought about talking to him so many times, but after psyching myself up, I always bottled it.

I couldn’t bear the thought of him walking away.

We were soulmates.

Also, I knew he’d be an amazing father.

I’d thought a few times that if I fell pregnant by accident, Jack would almost certainly stand by me.

One day, aged 30, looking at my contraceptive pills, I realised that, if I stopped taking them, that could be a reality.

Despite valuing truth and kindness, the internal struggle was less than I thought it would be.

Yes, it was wrong to do this, but the idea of a baby of my own to love overcame my moral compass.

Despite it going against the trust we shared, I decided in that moment to secretly stop taking my pill.

Within six months, in May 2021, I fell pregnant.

I’d secretly taken a test the day I missed my period.

I was thrilled, but felt a pit of guilt in my stomach.

I was so worried about how Jack would take it, I was terrified to tell him.

I’d secretly taken a test the day I missed my period. I was thrilled, but felt a pit of guilt in my stomach. I was so worried about how Jack would take it, I was terrified to tell him

Helena

A week later, when I’d spent two days throwing up, Jack suggested I take a pregnancy test.

I feigned shock at the idea as he sat with me, holding my hand as we waited for the lines I knew would appear.

He hugged me as I told him I couldn’t face a termination.

“Then we’ll just deal with the adventure life’s thrown at us,” he said.

He thought I was as shocked as he was, and I was ready to pretend I’d taken all my pills as normal.

In those first few months of my pregnancy, he seemed quiet and thoughtful — but he’d always say he was fine.

Three months in, Jack took me on a week-long break to Tuscany, Italy.

“We should probably make the most of our last trip for a while,” he said, and I’ve never felt so guilty.

With each wave of morning sickness came a wave of guilt.

Our lives were going to change and Jack had no say.

When our daughter was born in June 2023, after a 12-hour natural labour, and I saw Jack cradling Aurora* in his arms, the guilt melted away.

He was instantly a perfect dad.

He looked after me as I recovered from painful stitches, and would spring out of bed in the night whenever our daughter stirred.

He doted on us both, and the guilt abated almost entirely.

We never spoke about a second child, but I wanted a sibling for our little girl.

Am I selfish?

I couldn’t risk him saying no so, when Aurora was six months, I stopped taking my contraception and, 18 months later, we had another “happy accident”.

Jack said he was thrilled and, following a six-hour labour, when Amelie* was born, he adored her too.

Jack seemed so happy, it helped allay some of the guilt.

Jack said he was thrilled and, following a six-hour labour, when Amelie* was born, he adored her too. Jack seemed so happy, it helped allay some of the guilt

Helena

Again, he threw himself into changing nappies, doing bath times and dealing with tantrums.

He says he loves our lives together, but he’s never told me he’s glad it happened.

Sometimes I lie in bed wondering what he’d think if he knew I deliberately ended the life he loved.

We’ve moved out of London into the suburbs and he now has a cripplingly long commute.

There are no fancy restaurants or stays in swanky hotels.

We haven’t been abroad for more than three years because, although we have good jobs, sky-high nursery fees mean all our spare money goes on the children.

And I worry — does he secretly begrudge our perfect family?

But I am gloriously happy, despite the occasional pang of guilt, and I do not miss our old life.

My daughters’ arms around my neck beat a designer bag any day.

I’d never completely rule out doing the same thing again.

Am I selfish?

Or did I give Jack just what he needed?

I think he would love a third child, but something in me tells me one more baby could stretch his faith in me too far.

I’ve never shared my secret with anyone.

It’s almost as though, if I don’t say it out loud, it didn’t happen.

If Jack knew the truth, I couldn’t bear the thought of him resenting me, or worse, our children.

I love him deeply and I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.