As he gathered up a pile of leaves and threw me a cheeky smile, I knew exactly what my mischievous son, Teddy, was planning next.
‘Don’t you dare,’ I laughed, bolting away from him as he ran after me, giggling, his twoyear-old sister, Bea, squealing with delight.
It was the kind of happy, healthy family scene I could once only have dreamed of.
In 2012, our lives changed overnight when Teddy was diagnosed with leukaemia.
The cruel blood cancer transformed our tractor-mad three-year-old into a shadow of his former self.
My husband, Thomas, 46, and I sat by his hospital bedside for hours, willing him to get better.
During those dark days, like so many others going through challenging times, food had become my comfort blanket. I slowly ate myself…
