I am such a fool. I thought Tom was changing; I was wrong – he hasn’t changed at all.

I feel sad so much of the time. The health visitor thinks I may have postnatal depression. Tom said, “You’re not depressed; if anyone is depressed around here it’s me, you’re just putting it on.“

Annie rarely stops crying; she always needs feeding or holding.

Tom never stops shouting at me.

I never stop crying.

I want my old life back, and I need to spend some time with my other children too. They have started sitting in their bedrooms because they don’t want to hear Annie crying and Tom and I arguing; all we do lately is argue.

I begged him not to go to the pub tonight. I pleaded with him to stay home to help me with Annie and the other children.

He refused.

He said, “You only have Annie to look after; the rest can see to themselves.” They’re 8, 10 and 16; Amelia and Rosie still need me even if Josh doesn’t.

Instead, the children and I went to Izzy’s. Afterwards, I came home exhausted, and spent the next three hours trying to get Annie to settle. By 11.30pm, I gave up, got in bed with her, and cried myself to sleep while Annie suckled on my breast and drained the last ounce of strength from me.