"It was a cold, dark January morning as I crept onto the porch for a cigarette and a coffee before my beautiful sons, Harry, then two, and Alfie, then one, woke up.
I used to get up earlier than the children so I could have 10 minutes to myself before the day started. But that morning, the boys woke up earlier than usual.
I could hear them crying and my heart sank. All I wanted was those moments to myself but they had gone. It hit me that I wanted to look forward to my children waking up and to cherish every moment but, instead, motherhood was passing me by in a haze.
I loved my children, but had been suffering with postnatal depression after Harry’s birth and, at 37, I couldn’t seem to find any joy.
Read more on ok.co.uk