Waddling up the stairs, I winced in pain and rubbed my rounded tummy. I was exhausted and while I looked – and felt – like I was heavily pregnant, I actually wasn’t. In fact, I’d given birth to my baby boy, Bobby, nine months earlier.
My problems had begun in April 2019 after a weekend away for a friend’s hen do in Liverpool. It was my first time away from Bobby, then four months, and I couldn’t wait to get back to him and my daughter, Nieve, four.
But arriving home, my tummy didn’t feel right. I hadn’t been to the toilet for a couple of days, but I’d put it down to an