I am glad that I have now come to terms with grieving for what my birth could have been, with the healthy baby I could have had. The fact of the matter is I didn't have those things. I still gave birth, my child did come home, I am still a mother but to a heart warrior who I wouldn't change for the world.
My wife's expecting our first daughter in August this year, and I can't wait. I'm so excited about being a dad. But rewind just a few short years, and I could never have imagined this would be happening to me. Because my cancer surgeon had just uttered the words "the treatment will almost certainly leave you infertile".
New parents are inundated with unsolicited parenting advice and no topic is more eagerly discussed than sleep. After countless sleepless nights, the exhausted state many find themselves in can make it harder to separate fact from fiction. So here, for the benefit of tired parents everywhere, is a list of baby sleep advice you can safely ignore.
There's a brief but reflective detour in this hugely ambitious, perhaps definitive, telling of the autism story, some hundred or so pages in. Steering from the text's omnipresent objectivity and exhaustively researched facts, the authors make a personal observation that, I believe, has universal resonance.
I do not have the likes of Ms Hopkins social presence and media privilege in which to air my views, but as a mother of a child with autism, what I do have is a voice and the right, as does anyone else, to say how her views impact upon those with a disability. Her words impact upon me, my family and wider society.