Beaming with happiness I stared back at my reflection in the mirror. I was finally wearing the beautiful wedding dress I’d always dreamed of.

It was Wednesday 6th October, the day of my final dress fitting and four days before my wedding. I was a bundle of nerves.

But it wasn’t whether my fiance, David, would like the dress that bothered me. It was whether he would be all right marrying me!

For two years I’d been planning my wedding, but unlike other brides-to-be, my fiance had no idea we were getting married.

Ten years ago on Christmas Eve 2000 David, a gymnastics coach, proposed to me.

We never discussed when we would get married. We were too busy to plan a wedding because of work commitments.

Then in 2002 a miracle happened and, after being told at 18 I couldn’t have children, I fell pregnant with my daughter Bailee, now 8.

It was such a great surprise but the last thing we wanted was the stress of planning a wedding.

But in July 2008 our close friends Ryan and Julie tied the knot in a beautiful ceremony in Belfast. They’d only been together for five years and it got me dreaming about my own perfect day that hadn’t happened after eight years of being engaged!

Plus my sister Deborah, 26, got engaged to her boyfriend Alex around the same time and she was already planning her wedding.

Everyone was getting married except me!

In September I went to see some of my best friends in Glasgow and told them I was thinking about taking matters into my own hands, and surprising David with a wedding,

They loved the idea some much and even egged me on!

So as soon as I got back to Ireland I spoke to David’s Mum, Margaret, 47, about it.

“He’ll kill you, but it’s genius!” she giggled.

And so, with her help, I began planning – unbeknown to David.

Luckily, Deborah was planning her wedding for April 2010 so I was able to attend wedding fayres without raising any suspicion.

Whenever I had to be out arranging wedding-related things, I fobbed David off by telling him I was at an after-work meeting.

When Deborah went for her final bridal fitting, I went for my first dress fitting and my mother-in-law, Margaret, told David she was visiting her daughter Jess, 20, in Belfast and came with me.

But as the wedding drew closer, things got trickier.

A month before our wedding I was absolutely mortified when the wedding ring I’d chosen got delivered to our house and was even addressed to David.

I’d ordered it online and forgotten to change the name and address.

Fortunately, I’d mentioned at the start of the year about replacing his grubby silver engagement ring as his birthday present.

So when he opened the parcel and asked me about it I managed to string together a plausible explanation.

The secret came closest to being revealed just days before the wedding.

We both went to Bailee’s parents evening on the Wednesday before the wedding.

As we were leaving, one of the teachers said:  “I wish you all the luck with your weekend plans and soon I’ll be able to call you Mrs Hunsdale.”

I froze in horror as two years’ worth of hard work looked set to blow up in front of me.

Luckily, my quick-thinking saved me yet again.

“It’ll be another ten years before that happens!” I replied, seemingly unflustered.

After we’d left, David told me he was embarrassed that I’d said it would be another ten years before we got married – little did he know it would be less than ten days!

Finally the day came to tell him, October 7th 2010 – David’s birthday.

I was so nervous – I’d arranged for everyone to come around in the evening for a surprise party.

After opening all his presents, Bailee handed him his birthday card, which had a recorded message from her in it.

“I’ve arranged for you and Mummy to get married on Sunday, 3.30 pm at the Ulster Museum, see you there!”

As the truth hit him his face was a picture.

He broke into the biggest smile I’d ever seen.

“Seriously, we’re getting married!?”

The next day David stood waiting for me to walk down the aisle. When I did, and I saw his face, it made it all worthwhile.

He was really emotional and kept saying how beautiful I looked.

All my hard work paid off.

Although it was stressful and there were times when I didn’t think it would come together, I wouldn’t change a thing.

After all, if I hadn’t have done what I did, I don’t believe I would ever have been able to call myself Mrs Hunsdale!

To other people Nicola lived a glamorous life flying around the world as an air hostess. However, underneath her confident exterior she felt frumpy, old for her age and unhappy with her body.

“I’ve never been a wallflower but I was always very self-conscious about my body and felt unattractive,” says Nicola, now 36.

“I would say I felt unhappy with 70 per cent of my body and I was most unhappy about the size of my chest.”

Working alongside impeccably-groomed women left her feeling “like an ugly duckling amongst swans,” and flying took its toll on her face and body.

her body hang-ups also affected her relationship with hubby Kirk, a steelworker. Nicola could barely bring herself to undress in front of him and had no confidence in the bedroom.

Then one day in 2005 she spotted a newspaper advert for a TV makeover show, and immediately sent off her application.

To her amazement she was chosen from 4,000 people to take part in Channel Five’s Brand New You programme and was flown to California to meet cosmetic surgeons.

They offered to perform a whopping £100,000 worth of surgery on her and Nicola was over the moon.

She not only received a boob job to boost her cleavage to a 36DD, but also underwent a facelift, earpinning, lipo, collagen implants, teeth whitening, laser eye surgery and face sculpturing.

“I had much more surgery than I thought I’d have but it was worth it. I loved my new figure,” she says.

For the grand finale the TV show arranged a surprise ceremony for Nicola to renew her wedding vows with Kirk.

But Nicola’s surgery had some unexpected consequences. She claims it gave her the confidence to realise her marriage was not making her happy, and just a few weeks after the cameras stopped filming her relationship with Kirk broke down.

Her friends and family were happy for her and Nicola found single life suited her. She began experimenting with her look, trying new make-up, high heels and dyeing her hair.

Armed with her new-found confidence, Nicola got chatting to scaffolder Andy while on a girls’ holiday in Tenerife and the pair hit it off immediately.

“I never thought I’d meet anyone like him. He is gorgeous and very outgoing. Before the surgery I would have thought he would be out of my league. He is so good for me and treats me like a queen.”

But last year one of her saline breast implants ruptured.

“I was advised to have them both removed but I couldn’t bear to lose them so I saved £5000 to have another boob job.

“I joked to my friends ‘I want more than Demi Moore’ – she’s spent £266K and I’m almost half way there! I love the looks and lifestyle of the footballers’ WAGS and now I have a body to match them.

“I love Alex Curran’s body. I want my boobs to stay like hers.”

Nicola has even found the strength to ditch her confidence-sapping old job and dedicated her life to something much more worthwhile, training to be a prison warden.

“My life is great since I had the surgery. I’ve got a new job, a new man, a new home. Everything has changed for the better.”

“Andy and I are hoping to get married soon. I swore after my first marriage ended that I would never get married again but Andy has changed my views on that.

“We’re going to go to Las Vegas and do it one day on the spur of the moment. I’d love to have children with Andy but we are going to wait until I’ve settled properly into my job.”

At the back of her mind Nicola still thinks there is room for improvement in how she looks.

“I am happy, although I may consider having some liposuction on my inner thighs as they are a bit wobbly and I’ve promised myself when I hit 40 I am going to get my eyes lifted again as a birthday treat.

“I wouldn’t go back to the old me – never in a million years!”

Sitting in the hospital bed for my 12 week scan I was so excited to see the first picture of my new baby. I was also incredibly nervous.

I thought back to the scans I’d had of my three children with my husband Tam: son Morgan, eight, and daughters Mackenzie, four and Francesca, 20 months.

We’d been married eight years and had three wonderful children after I met his family in Ibiza in September 1999.

We spoke every night when we got home and he came to visit on my 18th birthday in March 2000.

We were so in love he moved down for good in May and we married eight months later.

He had attended all of our childrens’ scans with me and would squeeze my hand tightly to make me feel safe.

I’d had a stillborn baby during my first pregnancy in 1998 and despite having three healthy babies since I could never shake that feeling of fear.

He’s squeeze my hand, his smiling eyes reassuring me that my baby was healthy. Every scan he would be there to share the joy as our baby grew.

But Tam wasn’t with me this time. I had my friend Gail with me instead.

He was back home in Scotland after I’d asked him to leave.

We had planned to have a child and had been trying since September 2008. We’d had a bit of a rough year after Tam lost his warehouse job and we had started to argue about money but 2009 was supposed to be a fresh start for us.

However, my world shattered just days after celebrating my pregnancy.

I’d picked up his mobile phone to use the calculator tool and saw a text from him to a foreign number.

“I love you and I miss you.”

I felt sick to the stomach.

When I confronted him about the texts he said he wasn’t having an affair, it was just a friend he had made on the internet. He said her name was Carla and she was an American with two children and a partner.

For a while I’d been having doubts. He’d been spending lots of time on the internet and I knew he’d been on chat-rooms – something he had always said he had been against.

“How would you feel if I was emailing and exchanging numbers with men in chat-rooms?” I asked him.

“I’ll set you up on one if you like,” he replied.

I couldn’t think of anything worse and I hated my own husband was suggesting such a thing.

He promised not to contact this woman again but he did.

When a phone bill came through with hundreds of pounds racked up to the same international number I couldn’t take it anymore and on March 18th I gave him an ultimatum:

“You either say goodbye to her or you say goodbye to us.”

He was still denying an affair so he packed his bags and kissed Francesca goodbye- coldly left without saying a word.

I think he expected me to take him back but I encouraged myself to stay strong and not give in.

After a while his brother called to let me know Tam had gone to Mexico. I was so confused.

“How did he pay for his flights?” I asked. I had access to his accounts still and I saw he had absolutely no money.

A few days later I got a call from Tam.

He was in a Mexican police station and said he’d been stitched up for groping a woman’s breast and bottom. I knew straight away there was no way he could have done that. He was a flirt but he would never force himself on anybody.

He asked me to contact the Home Office and every day I would ring for updates.

I have also had to stay in touch with Carla, the woman behind my family break up.

Part of me just wants to scream at her but for now I have to rely on her for information, as she is out there dealing with lawyers and police. I hate that she holds the key to everything.

I’m so scared to have a failed marriage behind me and I think part of me hopes he will have time in jail to reflect on the importance of our family and maybe it will change him for the good.

But I also know I deserve someone who treats me with respect and love.

I have told my eldest son Morgan that he was arrested for being a good man. I don’t want them to think badly of their dad and I’m leaving it open for him to come back and have a relationship with them when he comes out.

There was a time when I wanted him home with me but now I just want him out safe so he can be a father to my children. I owe it to my unborn baby and to myself to strive for my own happiness and I will do all I can to achieve that.

Image courtesy of Casey Serin

Clutching my glass of rose, I glanced around the bustling hall.

My friend Sue and I had were at a singles night in Swindon together and I noticed a burly man sitting alone at the bar, frowning.

Despite his grumpy look I was immediately attracted to his rough-and-ready masculine build and bright blue eyes.

I sauntered over with a grin on my face and his frown melted in to a smile.

He told me his name was Phil and he was 40.

I was 35 and had just gone through a divorce.

After having four beautiful children – Gemma, now 21, James, 18, Lewis, 16, and Charlie, 9 – I wanted to have some fun again.

I wouldn’t have changed having my kids for the world but I was sure there had to be more to life.

Phil and I went for a drink two days later. He was also very funny and always listened attentively to me.

I felt bubbles of excitement every time I saw him.

After a few weeks I introduced him to my kids.

Unfortunately Gemma wasn’t impressed.

‘Have you thought this through?’ she demanded.

But I didn’t care – we continued to go out for delicious meals and drinks in bars. I felt like a giddy teenager again.

But three months into our relationship I sensed he was holding something back.

I realised that although I’d talked openly about myself and my past he’d always change the subject when I asked about him.

‘Look,’ I said eventually. ‘If you’re not going to talk to me, I’m going to have to end the relationship. I can’t have any secrets.’

‘Ok ok,’ he muttered. ‘But you need to sit down.

‘I was in prison serving life until last year,’ he began.

A shiver flickered up my spine.

‘My ex wife and I were alcoholics and she accused me of cheating constantly.

‘Then one day she tried to stab me with the scissors – and I pushed her away.

‘But she fell on the scissors and she died.’

I swallowed hard.

‘It was a horrible accident. I’ve wanted to tell you for ages – but I didn’t know how.’

I nodded, unable to say a word.

The following day he got his parole officers to confirm to me his wife had stabbed him too.

‘You poor love,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry now, you’re with me.’

In July 2005 we got engaged, and married on New Years Day 2006 in a beautiful ceremony at Lydiard Church, Swindon.

We moved in to a gorgeous three-bedroom house and by December 2006 I was pregnant.

On 20th March 2007 our son Ethan was born three months premature.

But back home Phil became really hard work. I couldn’t cope with both him and the poorly baby.

‘Phil, I need a temporary separation,’ I said wearily.

He nodded and left. But something told me he hadn’t listened.

In a Swindon bar later that week I clocked Phil drinking across the bar.

Feeling frightened, I asked him to leave and my friends comforted me.

Soon his jealousy and possessiveness became unbearable.

One night, I woke to hear a scratching noise – and to my horror saw a dark figure clambering through my window.

I screamed in terror as I recognised the familiar grin.

I pleaded with him to go, but he only left when Ethan’s wails suddenly echoed down the corridor.

He continued to call me 38 times a day.

Eventually Gemma called the police, and Swindon Magistrates Court issued a restraining order in the second week of January 2008.

Weak with anxiety, I treated myself to a relaxing holistic therapy day on Sunday while Gemma looked after Ethan.

But when I arrived home I spotted Phil on my driveway, staring at me with those sharp blue eyes.

Moments later he was wrenching my car door open, before I slammed my foot on the accelerator and escaped.

Later that night the police arrested Phil at his flat. They discovered a six inch serrated bread knife in his car – he told the officers he’d planned to kill himself.

In late January 2008, Phil returned to prison.

Gemma came with me to Phil’s flat to collect my things.

Noticing a box among my magazines and wash kit, I curiously opened the lid.

Inside I discovered a collection of old newspaper cuttings.

‘”I was like a robot”, killer tells jury,’ I read.

My heart started beating faster – I was reading about Phil.

‘It was like my mind snapped. All I felt was a blind, black, red rage,’ he’d admitted in Bristol Crown Court.

Feeling sick, I read how Phil had stabbed his wife 38 times with a knife, before carrying her body upstairs and decorating it with teddy bears and flowers.

Everything he’d told me had been a twisted lie.

I suddenly realised – I was married to a murderer.

The obsessive, jealous behaviour, his short temper, his intensity – it all made sense now.

Last year, I applied for a divorce and through the help of Gemma, and my fantastic friends, have tried to move on.

I’m still on the lookout for love but this time I won’t be so blind.

Twirling across the dance hall, I caught sight of my thighs in the mirror and frowned.

Encased in flesh-coloured tights, they looked ugly and chubby.

I longed to go to the Royal Ballet School but it seemed out of my reach.

Who would take on a fat ballerina?

I was just seven years old but already I was obsessed with my weight.

Pushing spaghetti around my plate later that evening my mum Hilary, now 56, frowned.

‘Why aren’t you eating?’ she asked.

‘My stomach hurts,’ I mumbled. Mum frowned at my dad, Barrie now 59.

For the next three years, doctors gave me blood and ultrasound tests, trying to diagnose my stomach problem.

But there wasn’t one. I just didn’t want to eat.

By the time I was at secondary school I was eating a piece of bread and one milk drink each day. If I was weak, I ate half a biscuit too.

I was 4ft 8ins tall and weighed just two and a half stone.

In September 2009, I was in the library when I collapsed. The doctor referred me to a psychiatrist.

‘You’re anorexic,’ the psychiatrist said. ‘You need to go to hospital.’

I was referred to Hebden Lodge, a specialist eating disorder unit at Springfield Hospital, London.

The doctors had to tube feed me but my stomach wasn’t used to having anything inside it, so I was sick.

‘You’ll die unless you pull yourself together,’ the nurses warned me, trying to shock me back to health.

Lying in bed, I sobbed – I didn’t believe there was anything wrong with me.

It took eight months for me to reach my target weight of five-and-a-half stone but I was finally discharged.

When I went back to school, the other kids would stare at me and whisper when I walked past.

‘Cassia has cancer,’ one girl said to another in the toilets, unaware I was already in a cubicle.

Being the subject of gossip destroyed the little confidence I had.

I began to self-harm, with glass, razor blades, biros, CD cases – anything I could get my hands on. The pain was a release.

By the time I started dating Adam, then 16, the anorexia had taken hold of me again.

By January 2005, aged 16, I weighed just four stone and was eating only half a can of chicken soup a day.

I was diagnosed with osteoporosis because my bones were so deprived of calcium.

In February 2005, I was admitted to another eating disorder unit, Huntercombe in Staffordshire (CORR), where the doctors prescribed a 2,000 calorie diet.

‘I’ll come to hospital to see you,’ Adam promised.

But a few weeks later he sent me a text message.

‘I can’t do this anymore,’ it said.

My illness had driven him away.

One evening, I went to the TV room and saw a slim blonde-haired girl.

‘What’s your name?’ she said when she saw me. ‘I’m Sophie Mazurek. How are you finding it?’

We began chatting and realised we had loads in common – a love of fashion, clothes and art.

It was so easy to talk to Sophie that for a moment I felt like I was normal – not banged up inside an eating disorder clinic.

In late June 2006, 18 months after we first met, Sophie reached her target weight and returned to her home in Powys, Wales.

Six weeks later, the hospital released me and I went home to Nottingham.

Sophie and I were ready to begin the rest of our lives.

We spoke every day but as the weeks passed, she grew sad.

As we chatted on the phone about school and boys Sophie became distant and reserved.

I knew something wasn’t right, but didn’t want to push her for answers.

One day in December 2006, Sophie’s mum, Rosalind Ponomarenko-Jones, called me.

‘Sophie’s been taken into hospital,’ she said.

My heart sank. The anorexia had struck again.

Just a few days later a friend from Huntercoombe, Sarah, now 20, called.

‘Have you seen the email?’ she asked, her voice wobbly.

Ros had sent Sophie’s friends an email to say Sophie had died.

The anorexia had won.

On 30th December I went to Sophie’s funeral, held at a church in Powys.

Tears rolled down my face as I listened to her favourite songs – Gary Jules’s ‘Mad World’ and James Morrison’s ‘Wonderful World’ – being played.

A few days later, I caught sight of a photo of Sophie that I kept on my desk.

I felt a pang of sadness but realised that Sophie had died from anorexia and she wouldn’t want it to get me.

With my new determination I started to eat, fighting the urge to vomit.

It was hard work but one day a card arrived from Sophie’s mum.

‘You can do it,’ it said. I was determined to fight it – for Sophie.

I’ve been through hell but now I’m a better person. I’m outgoing and love meeting new people. I’ve started studying occupational therapy at York St John’s University and the future looks bright.

I’ll never forget Sophie. Anorexia snatched her away from me, but I’ll always remember her. She saved my life.

Image courtesy of Elizabeth Hilz

Standing in the hall of my mum’s flat I waited for the doorbell to ring.

I was only 14 but for weeks Drew Blake, then 16, had been coming round selling pools for Worcester City Football Club.

He was so good looking and I always made sure I cornered him for a chat.

Then one he turned to me and said: “Want to go see ‘Grease’ with me?”

My stomach flipped. “Yes!” I exclaimed

After our date we were inseparable. Just a couple of months later we were snuggling up on my sofa when Drew stared into my eyes and told me he loved me.

“I love you too,” I replied.

I knew I was young but I was sure what I felt was real.

One day we out shopping when drew bought me a silver heart-shaped necklace.

As he clasped it around my neck I knew I never wanted to be without it.

Over the next two years we were never apart for any longer than a couple of hours. But things changed when my mum moved us to Kettering.

For a few months we tried to keep in touch, but eventually our relationship fizzled out.

I was devastated and would cry for hours at a time. I’d take out the necklace and just stare at it, remembering those times I’d had with Drew.

But I knew I had to try and move on. I met a new man, married him and had three beautiful children, but I never felt the way I had done about Drew.

Every year I would secretly make the 20 mile trip to Drew’s mum’s cafe in Worcester and wear my necklace.

I’d sit and chat to Margaret and would hear segments of Drew’s life. She told me he was married and she wished he’d married me instead.

When I’d leave the cafe I’d give Margaret a card with an Alsatian on the front – Drew’s favourite animal.

But then Margaret sold the cafe and with that any contact I could’ve had with Drew ceased.

When my marriage ended after nine years I still dreamt I could be reunited with Drew.

Then one day in December 2009 I logged onto social networking site and typed in Drew’s name and his son Anthony came up.

Nervously I typed : “Sorry to bother you, but is your grandmother’s name Margaret?”

The following day I received a reply saying it was the right person.

Excitement and nerves rushed through me as I explained I had been a friend of Margaret’s but we’d lost touch.

Within a couple of hours Anthony had replied : ” I asked my dad if he knew you before and my nan, also if you would like I can pass on your number?”

Later that day I received a text message saying: “How you doing these days?”

It was the text I’d been dreaming of for nearly 30 years.

Within 45 minutes I heard a familiar voice on the other end of the telephone.

“I always got your cards,” he said to me. “I knew they were from you, but I was a married man.

Then he told me that he and his wife were divorcing.

“I’m divorced with three children,” I stuttered.

“I used to drive past your old house and look up at the window,” confided Drew.” I always thought of you as the one that got away.”

We spoke on the phone for hours and frantically arranged to meet each other two days later on the 3rd of January this year.

Before I left I carefully tucked my necklace I’d cherished for so long in my purse.

I stood on my mum’s drive waiting for Drew.

He leapt out of his car and kissed me passionately. It felt like the old days.

“I can’t believe it’s you,’ I said as I stared at him.

“You haven’t changed one bit,” he whispered in my ear.

We chatted so quickly in that first hour as we made up for lost time.

“Look what I still have,” I said. Taking out my purse I showed him the necklace.

“I can’t believe you still have that,” he replied, grinning widely.

Immediately we knew we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together. Age had only proven that we couldn’t live without each other.

On January 8th, five days after meeting up after 30 years we decided to move in together in Worcester and later this year when Drew’s divorce is finalised we are going to get married abroad.

It’s like we’ve never been apart, we are just really picking up from where we left off 30 years ago.

I always wished that I’d be reunited with Drew and now I know that true love really does wait.

Image courtesy of Craft*ology

Fitness fanatic and mum-of -three Kate Allatt was only 39 years old when her life was torn apart in Feb 2010.

Waking up in the Intensive Care Unit of Sheffield Northern General Hospital she found herself hooked up to a life support machine and paralised from the neck down.

She had entered her worst nightmare.

Kate had ‘Locked – in – syndrome’- a cruel condition and rare side-effect of having a stroke.

She could hear and understand the world around her but could not move a single muscle. She was literally locked inside her own body- with only her thoughts for comfort.

Medical professionals stressed that Kate was ‘lucky to have survived’ and warned her husband Mark, that she would never live a normal life again.

Only the day before her near-fatal stroke Kate had gone on her usual 12 mile run and played happily with her three children, India, 11, Harvey, 10 and Woody, 6. But the next day life as she knew it changed forever.

“I woke up with a really sore head and a tingly sensation in my mouth. I’d had a slight headache for three weeks previously, but had put it down to stress from juggling my Digital Marketing business with family life. But that day it felt a hundred times worse and I knew I needed to get help,”

But after visiting the hospital she was sent home with Co-Codamol and told she was suffering from a stress-induced migraine.

But two hours later Kate was battling for her life.

“Back home I tried to settle down on the sofa but my speech was slurred. My next memory is waking up hooked to a life support machine. Panic raced through me as I felt completely awake and alert.”

Kate had suffered a major stroke.

Mark had found her slumped on the ground and frantically dialled 999. She was rushed for a CAT scan but surgeons were unable to determine whether Kate was brain damaged for life.

For the next two weeks Mark stayed by Kate’s hospital bed and prayed she would survive.

“I kept begging for a miracle. Doctors told me that her brain was not working properly. She looked like she was fast asleep,” Mark says, choking back tears.

A couple of days later Mark saw tears trickle down Kate’s face. It was the miracle he’d been wishing for, but it was bittersweet.

“When I saw her crying it felt so cruel. She could make no sound- she couldn’t smile and her eyes looked terrified and wild.”

For two weeks Kate had tests to determine if she was mentally agile. Incredibly, Kate managed to communicate by blinking. She’d blink once for ‘no’ and twice for ‘yes’.

“I felt so angry being stuck in my useless body. I heard the awful diagnosis and it filled me with fury. I knew I had to tackle this anger positively. By blinking it felt like the ray of light I needed to begin to escape from this silent, solitary hell,” Kate recalls.

Kate’s progress astounded everyone and a week later she was spelling out words using a letterboard.

“Writing ‘Hello’ felt like such a milestone. It filled me with a fiery determination to carry on with the battle.

“But I was still terrified that I’d never be able to hug or talk to my children again, or that I couldn’t provide for my husband. Mark told me not to entertain the ‘what if’s?’ and carry on fighting,” she remembers.

Two months later Kate was out of Intensive Care and moved into a Neuro-rehablilitation unit. She was taken off her ventilation machine and had a tracehetomy inserted.

Her progress moved at a startling rate.

“When I moved to the rehabilitation unit I felt like I was starting to win the battle. I was still completely paralysed, but I would stare at my limp body and will it to move. For hours at a time I’d just concentrate on my right thumb, willing a miracle to happen,” Kate remembers

After days of concentration, Kate finally managed to make her thumb twitch through will power alone.

“Watching my thumb I suddenly realised just how powerful the mind is. Once I could move it I could start pressing a buzzer to get assistance when needed. I felt like a caged bird being set free.”

Every week Kate would set herself new challenges and push herself to achieve them.

Kate’s youngest child Woody encouraged her to start writing by giving her a pen and paper and asking her to write his name.

“Children are so innocent when they ask you to do things and Woody had seen me point at my communication chart. He started so sweetly into my eyes and handed me a pen. When I managed to scrawl ‘Woody,’ my emotions washed over me and I couldn’t stop crying,” she gushes.

The nurses at the unit realised Kate was not like their usual cases who normally stabilise at a certain level. Every goal they set for her she would achieve within half the expected time.

“I wanted to challenge myself to speak but I didn’t have enough air capacity in my lungs. Doctors said I’d never be able to. My wish was finally granted when they removed my trachectomy. I had to stick tissue paper into my mouth to stop me salivating and practise blowing a ping pong ball through a straw. With every breath I blew I grew stronger,” she says.

Her belief that she could repair herself was encouraged once again by little Woody when he asked her to say his name in July.

“When he heard me start making muffled noises he wanted me to try and say his name. I looked at him and managed to mumble Woody, then my other childrens’ names.”

Energised by her new ways to communicate Kate threw herself into physiotherapy and promised that she would walk again.

At first even staying upright in a wheelchair was remarkable at the neuro-rehabiliation unit, but every day she was hoisted upright and slowly started to walk, with the help of a frame.

“I felt like Bambi trying to walk again. But every stumble made me all the more determined. My first shopping trip with India was incredible, I felt like I could be her mum again. I was in my wheelchair but I felt like the tallest person in the world.”

For three months Kate improved rapidly and in September she was finally allowed home for good.

“It’s true what they say- ‘what doesn’t kill you will only make you stronger’”.

“I’m a firm believer in breast is best,” says 28-year-old Amanda. “It’s a natural thing and the benefits to the child are amazing. I child-mind my friends’ babies and provided I’ve got permission, I breastfeed them as well.

The parents love it – it means they don’t have to worry about expressing milk – I’ve got more than enough to go round.”

Amanda breastfeeds her son Jonathan every other day, even though he is a boisterous boy with a full set of teeth who joins the rest of the family at the dinner table to tuck into three meals a day.

“I breastfeed him whenever he asks for it,” reveals Amanda, from Barnsley, South Yorkshire. We call it ‘lellow’ as I didn’t want Jonathan to be asking for ‘boobie’.”

“He usually crawls into my bed when his daddy is away. My husband is fully supportive of it but Jonathan is just not as interested when Daddy is around.

“I make sure my husband, Roy, gets his own time with my breasts so he doesn’t feel left out and we maintain a happy relationship. We have a very fresh and healthy sex life!”

Amanda, who runs her own child-minding business, is expecting another baby boy with her store supervisor husband Roy, 31, and says she has talked to Jonathan about sharing her breasts with his new baby brother.

She says: “Jonathan is a very loving child and is very excited about sharing with his baby brother.

“Now he is older my breast-milk is less of an essential like it is for a new-born – it’s more a luxury. It’s a bit like eating chocolate and at the moment, with me being heavily pregnant, Jonathan says it is extra creamy!

“Roy and I have both tried it. Once, when I ran out of milk for coffee I used my emergency frozen supply that I keep for Jonathan when I’m away! I’m not a fan myself, I thought it was a bit sour but it might be the curry I had eaten that week as diet affects the taste of the milk.

Amanda is aware that the majority of mums wean their baby at around six-months-old and anything else is viewed as strange, but she is defiant that it is society pressure to conform that causes this taboo.

She says: “I used to think it was freaky myself when I saw a toddler breastfeeding but with me and Jonathan it was just natural – we didn’t stop. Women do this all over the world and I think its ridiculous people look down their noses at it.

“When I first started breastfeeding I felt an incredible bond form between me and Jonathan and little did I know six years later I would still be getting that feeling. I don’t want it to stop.”

Amanda is unafraid to do it in public but says Jonathan was about three when he declined her offer of the breast at a public library telling her it was something to be done ‘at home’.

“He’s a very intelligent child – he’s better than the average for his school-age and I’m determined it’s because of the breast milk,” insists Amanda.

Amanda is so convinced about the benefits of breast milk, she is happy to offer hers as part of her child-minding service.

She says: “It doesn’t affect the bonding process with their mums. A lot of them are my pals who work and they love that there is breast-milk on tap to feed their kids.

“One of them has actually offered to be my wet nurse and I have accepted the offer gratefully. Provided I trusted the woman, I would be delighted for any woman to breastfeed my baby.

“I’m planning to tandem breastfeed Jonathan and the new one, but having my friend as my wet nurse means I’ll get a bit of a break!

“I want others to know the benefits of breastfeeding and want people to know it’s not freaky to continue past the ‘acceptable’ age. For me there is no upper limit, it will be when he no longer asks for it.

“Jonathan loves it and I’m happy to go on and on!”

In Laura’s eyes Vanessa seemed like an ordinary, middle aged mum-of-two when she met her in a playground.

Immediately Laura took a shine to her, they seemed to have things in common, their daughters were the same age and Vanessa was bubbly and funny.

As she stood casually chatting to Vanessa, Laura could not have imagined the impact this seemingly innocent and friendly woman would have on her life and the lives of young children in her care.

Laura worked at Little Ted’s nursery in Plymouth and it wasn’t until the 7th of September 2006, when Vanessa started a job at the same nursery, that the two became close friends.

Over the next 18 months Laura happily welcomed Vanessa into her home and never doubted that she could trust her.

Laura said: “I don’t drive and Vanessa does so when my daughter was younger she would pick her up and take her to brownies.

“Thinking about that now makes my skin crawl, it’s horrible to think of what might have happened but my daughter assures me that Vanessa has never tried to touch her.

“I also noticed she was quite inappropriate with my sons who are 27 and 17. She would act flirtatiously and suggestively – she once tried to show my 17-year-old naked pictures of herself on her phone and I got really angry with her.”

Vanessa told Laura there were two men in Plymouth she would meet up with for sex- a one night stand and another who Vanessa had a regular ‘arrangement’ with.

She soon realised that Vanessa was telling her husband she was at Laura’s house when she was meeting up with men.

When Vanessa met Colin Blanchard in late December on the internet she told Laura about him within days of contacting him.

Laura remembers: “Vanessa said she loved Colin but I think it was more like an obsession. She would giggle like a teenager in love as she texted him but I thought it was innocent.

“Now I look back on those times and wonder what she was actually texting him – it could have been pictures, he could have been egging her on – while I was sitting right next to her.”

On Saturday the 7th of June this year Vanessa called Laura to ask if she could cover for her if Andrew phoned while she met up with a man for sex.

Laura said: “I was really annoyed but agreed to do it, she was my friend and she was feeling low. She came to my house later that day for about an hour.

“That was the last time I saw her.”

The later that week every member of staff at Little Ted’s nursery received a phone call out of the blue from their boss informing them not to go to work.

Laura said: “I had no idea what was going on so I phoned Vanessa, she didn’t answer so I left her a message but she didn’t reply so I texted her.”

She never heard back.

“I panicked, thinking something had happened to her, she was always contactable.

“My first thought was that Andrew had found out about the other men and got angry with her, maybe hurt her but it was even worse.

“My boss told me the police had sent a letter detailing that someone who worked at the nursery was taking indecent images of children – it was Vanessa.

“Then we were all called to the police station and I broke down when they told us the news.

“It makes me feel sick to think of what she did to those children, to say I’m disgusted is an understatement.”

As Laura looks back over the past 18 months she wishes she could see tell-tale signs of Vanessa’s true character but she can’t.

The police told Laura she was groomed and manipulated by Vanessa.

She explains: “I’ve been trying to think of instances when Vanessa might have had an opportunity to abuse the children and the only times it could have happened was if she took a child to the bathroom, or maybe during nappy changing time – she was quite big so maybe she was able to hide what she was actually doing from us.”

Vanessa showed no signs of remorse in court and Laura was disgusted to find out that she had used an implement that she had stolen from Laura’s house to abuse the children.

She said: “She manipulated all of us, she wasn’t who she said she was and she has ruined so many lives.

“I know it has been reported that Colin Blanchard egged her on to do those horrible things but no one forced her to do it, she made those decisions and she needs to face the consequences.

“I do believe she was infatuated with him though and would do anything to please him.

“We will never get over this, these poor parents will never send their children to another nursery and she has destroyed the careers of the staff who worked at Little Ted’s.

“When the news broke and I saw all the parents’ faces standing outside the police station and nursery in protest it broke my heart.

“Out of everyone that worked at Little Ted’s Vanessa was the children’s favourite nursery nurse and they would run up to hug her whenever they saw her.

“She has not only ruined those young children’s lives and their families’ lives, she has destroyed an entire community.”

“Get to it!” the gruff voice bellowed.

The dark eyes peering out from underneath the camouflage helmet met mine. I grabbed my black Labrador, Sparky, by the collar and marched forward, sand crunching underneath my feet.

I had just arrived in Lashkar Gah, Afghanistan. But I wasn’t here on holiday. I was here to fight the Taliban.

As a dog handler with the army, I was carrying out armed explosive searches with Sparky.

The beating sun and sweltering heat were almost unbearable, and the threat of danger was constantly in the air. But I knew I had a job to do. I was here to serve my country.

“Now remember to duck if we give the signal,” the voice said again.

Corporal Mark Inghram, 29, was a sniper and section commander sent to teach me what to do if we were shot at or blown up. I tried my hardest to concentrate fully on every word he said.

This wasn’t an ordinary 9-5 job. Make a mistake here, and you paid with your life.

“Are you listening to me?” Mark snapped.

I frowned at him. Of course I was listening, did he think he could push me around just because he was in charge?

The stern look on Mark’s face slowly melted to a grin, and I felt butterflies rise in my stomach as he winked at me with his chocolate brown eyes.

I tried to push the feelings away. After all, I was here to do a job.

Late one evening I was sat in the cookhouse with a cup of tea. The area was our little retreat away from the tension of the job.
Sparky was lying at my feet. I reached down to stroke him and noticed his ears suddenly pricking up.

“What’s up, boy?” I whispered.

“Hi, Anna,” I heard a familiar voice say, and turned round to see Mark in the doorway.

“Hey,” I smiled. I had never actually spoken to him off-duty before. “Fancy a cuppa?”

Away from the intensity of the job, I found I relaxed really easily around Mark. The conversation flowed, and we chatted awayabout home, family and life. Before we knew it, several hours had passed.

“Is that the time? Best get to bed!” Mark exclaimed. He pecked me on the cheek before leaving.

I felt myself turning fuzzy inside.

Every night after that Mark and I found ourselves chatting away after hours, laughing and joking over mugs of ration coffee. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d met someone I clicked with so well.

And try as I could to ignore them, I couldn’t escape the butterflies in my stomach or the flushing in my cheeks every time he leaned close to me.

“Do I actually fancy Mark?” I asked myself. The Afghanistan desert was the last place I had expected to find someone special.

Even Sparky was taken with Mark. His ears would prick up and his tail wag excitedly whenever he was near.

Sparky had saved my life many times, so I knew to trust his judgement.

One evening, several weeks after we first started chatting, we were about to say goodnight after another long day.

But as Mark leaned towards me, instead of kissing me on the cheek like he always did, he turned my face and placed his lips on mine.

I felt all my worries and fears slip away as I melted into his touch.

The next few days I felt like I was walking on air. Nothing seemed to matter apart from me and Mark.

But soon I was bought down to reality with a huge bang. Only a few weeks after our first kiss, I was delivered a nasty reminder of just how much danger we were in.

Sparky and I were travelling in one land rover while Mark rode in the one ahead.

Suddenly a deafening bang shot through my ears, and I ducked to the ground as our vehicle began to shake.
“We’ve been ambushed!” I heard someone shout, and we all grabbed our weapons ready in anticipation.

But I realised I couldn’t just think about myself.

“Mark!” I yelped, and jumped up to peer out the window at his vehicle.

All I could see in front of me was clouds of smoke. I felt sickness rising in my stomach as I realised they must have been hit.

“Oh, please let him be ok,” I quivered, sinking to the ground and trying to contain the tears welling up inside me.

Suddenly a voice crackled through the radio. “We’re all ok!” Mark’s voice said.

My knees almost buckled with relief. I realised then just how precious Mark had become to me.

When our vehicles stopped I ran and flung my arms around him.

“I never want to be apart from you,” I murmured.

“You don’t have to be,” he smiled.

When I was finally posted home it was a relief to be back around friends and family.

But not seeing Mark every day was torture.

We made the epic journeys between each other’s’ barracks every weekend. It was time-consuming but it was worth it.

In Christmas 2008 Mark surprised me with a trip to Lapland.

“We met in one of the hottest places on earth, so why don’t we check out one of the coldest,” he grinned.

The snow-covered landscape was so beautiful it took my breath away. But even more special was the moment Mark got down onone knee and presented me with a beautiful diamond ring.

“Yes!” I cried, and flung my arms around his neck before he had even had the chance to utter the words.

We finally married in a military-themed ceremony at a beautiful stately home in Essex in May 2010.

The way we met was certainly unusual, but to me it means a lot.

I know that if we can get through what we went through together, we can get through anything.