Blaring from the speakers, the familiar words of Queen filled the living room.
‘We are the champions,’ Freddie Mercury cried at full blast.
‘And we’ll keep on fighting to the end,’ my son William, then seven, screamed.
His dad Mick, now 49, joining in on the next line.
It was a familiar scene in our household – William just loved Queen.
And for me, it was the perfect sight to see.
Being diagnosed with polycystic ovaries at 18, I grew up thinking that I’d never be a mum.
That was until I met Mick in 2005.
Quickly kindling our relationship, I found out that I was three months pregnant a year later.
Then, on 23 April 2007, at Salisbury District Hospital, our little boy William was born at 5.25pm.
Holding onto him for the first time was an indescribable feeling, there were so many emotions going through my body – most of all love.
That feeling never really left.
From telling jokes, dashing
