The years would happily roll by and I would become a busy mother and wife. Rick and I had chosen to have a simple church wedding, followed by a buffet and a disco at our local social club. We wanted it to be an informal and fun wedding, which it absolutely was.

I had always wanted my Gramp to walk me down the aisle, so the loss of him had me asking my dad whether he would do it instead. That request, left my father in a quandary. He wanted to, but knew that his wife and other children would be asking a lot of awkward questions if he did. In the end, I told dad that my eldest son would be the one to give me away. Was I disappointed? At the time, I really was. Maybe even a little angry, but I just couldn't be bothered with the stress of dad being stressed about my wedding. It was far easier to take the request from off the table, and have my son be the one to walk me down the aisle. In hindsight, I'm glad that he did. On that day, my thirteen year old son was the one who proudly stood by my side and gave me away, while his four year old little brother had quietly played in the aisle and his two year old little sister sat cutely upon the lap of her aunt.

Our wedding day was all about the children being included, our day was also to be their day. We were a family, so we very much wanted a family wedding. It was an emotional time, because my dearest Gramp wasn't there—he wasn't there to see me get married, with my beautiful children close by.

I had felt the very same loss when I had my first daughter. She would come into the world nearly two years after gramps passing, and it saddened me that he wasn't around to see me have the daughter that I had so longed for. Yet nan, she was there. Oh my, she was so proudly and excitedly there. So I counted my blessings on the day that my daughter was born, for I knew that my nan would love and adore her so much, that it would be like hers and gramps love and adoration would be rolled into one person.

Nan saw it all. She watched me marry my husband, while without hers. She watched me blossom into motherhood, knowing that everything was changing. When it was just me and my eldest son, myself and nan would spend so much time together. When I had my second son and my first daughter, that wasn't always possible. For nan, I think that hit her kind of hard. My own family, began to come first in my priorities. So nan kind of reinvented herself. She had to. She had to rely on me less and less. She made new friends. She bought herself a laptop and an iPad, teaching herself how to use them both. She got into crafting and making cards. Instead of always relying on me to provide her with an interesting social life, she created her own with her new circle of friends. Of course we still spent time together, but the time that we did spend together, had to evolve and change because I had evolved and changed.

There were many times when my nan and I talked about how my life had become so different. I would tell her that although I didn't always have the time for her, that I still did love and need her.

"You have your own husband now, love...him and your children are the ones who must come first." Nan would tell me, often with glistening tears in her eyes. Bravely, she would always try to say the right thing.

"I know that." Is what I would always say back, but it never stopped my guilt of not being able to be there for nan as much as I used to be. Over the years, that guilt would often give me a little reminding pinch.

You see, life became so immersed in my being a wife and a mother.

I quickly fell into an all-consuming routine of it. Life went from a familiar calm, to an unfamiliar hectic. It was all new to me, downright challenging at times, but I just kind of rolled with it. I embraced motherhood and marriage, I just got on with it.

Within all of that unfamiliar hectic, I would have jobs that I could work around it. For a while, I was a home care worker for a teenage girl who had severe cerebral palsy. I loved her, I loved her family, I loved the job, but the waking nights really didn't love me or my family life. Within eight months, I had to find a day job instead. That's when I began working as a care worker for adults with learning difficulties. Again, I loved the residents, I loved the role, but I began missing being in the classroom.

From the age of two, concerns about my second son had been raised by his nursery school, regarding his emotional and social development. He wasn't talking and would only say a few words. He didn't really interact with other children. He had to have the same toys, the same cup, always travel the same routes. Getting him potty trained was extremely stressful, which resulted in him still needing a nappy in order for him to have a poo by the age of four. Everything with him, became such a worry for me. I began researching, trying to find out what was happening to my beautiful son. For he was beautiful. As a baby, everyone thought he was a girl, even though he was usually dressed in blues of some kind. He was a quiet, unassuming soul, who needed order and routine. He was obsessed with fans—desk fans, floor fans, handheld fans—his favourite one, he would take to bed just like a cuddly teddy bear.

With my research, I had concluded that my son was on the autistic spectrum. When he was four, he was officially diagnosed with high functioning Autism - Asperger's.

I cried, lots.

I worried, lots.

I did more research, lots.

It was a stressful and scary time. Made only more stressful and scary, by the fact that I believed Rick had the very same thing as our son had. The more information we gathered, whether it was from support groups, the school or from other outside agencies; even Rick himself couldn't ignore it anymore.

"I honestly think I have Asperger's, Mary Rose?" Was what Rick had stated with a stunned expression, after just completing his own screening questionnaire.

Without wanting to alarm him, I just cuddled him. "It doesn't change anything, Rick. It just explains a lot of things, to us both." In my heart, I had already come to the conclusion that my husband had ASD.

In all honesty, that knowledge may have saved our marriage.

For there were times when I didn't know whether I would stay married to him. Even before we got married, I had noticed he wasn't very sociable, not unless he was drunk. He was very rigid in his way of thinking, borderline arrogant when he wanted to be. Just like our son, he had to have structure and routine, anything less would bring on irrational anxieties. Being Rick's wife, I soon realised that he was a stress-head. The smallest of things could ruin his day, thus ruining mine.

It was while my second son was being diagnosed with his Asperger's, and while Rick and I were both coming round to the idea that he had it too, that I began a new job as a teaching assistant in a local primary school. My overriding need to understand my son, had ignited my need to be back in the classroom again.

By understanding my son, I was also understanding my husband. By being back in the classroom, I had access to resources that would help us all, as well as the advice and support from my colleagues.

It was like fate was trying to knit everything together for me.

It had already been confirmed that our son had Asperger's, but I had to dig deep to truly accept that Rick had it too. Just like our son, he is clever and meticulous. His sense of fun, isn't always understood. He has no filter with a lot of the things that he says.

Remember when he left me on my own on our first date? Or when he kept going on about his exes perfect sized boobs? Yep, those were some of his traits at work right there.

Rick isn't very spontaneous.

He is socially awkward with those he doesn't know (I can't tell you the amount of arguments we used to have about him refusing to come to a social engagement with me).

He gets anxious over the stupidest of things.

Conversations with him can be trying, unless he is interested in the actual topic.

He's repetitive with just about EVERYTHING.

Yes, he can frustrate the bones of me.

Yes, I don't always have patience with him.

Yes, I can cry with anger because of him at times.

But to choose not to love him, to choose not wanting to be with him, would have been like not being able to love or want my son. He and his father, both have Asperger's, but to not be able to love them both, would have felt like I was betraying them both. So, I worked harder on my understanding. I worked harder on my patience. I worked harder on my acceptance. Once I did that, married life became so much easier. Being a mother to my second son, became so much easier.

To myself and Rick, he was our boy. He was our special boy.

He has always been academic, focused and reserved. When his gorgeous little sister eventually came along, he finally began to properly talk. Her constant chattering on, brought him out from his ASD shell. Her cheeky and fearless character, encouraged his own sense of humour to shine. There is only nineteen months between them, so they both share an incredibly close and trusted bond. A bond that makes me just want to cry with happiness at times.

By now, you should all know that I'm a great believer in fate, and when my first little girl came into my world, she was a beautiful gift from fate itself. She came at a time when I felt outnumbered and sometimes overwhelmed by the males in our home. I longed for a daughter. I dreamed about having a daughter. When I was pregnant with her, I just knew that inside of me, I was carrying that long awaited precious baby girl.

Compared to my boys, even being in labour with her was remarkably easy. "I'm not even sure I am in labour." Is what I told the midwife over the phone. Sure, I was having contractions two minutes apart, but had no real pain with them.

"Have you had a show?" The midwife then asked me.

"Yes."

"And you're contracting every two minutes?"

With my stomach tightening, I could barely then answer. "Yes."

"And you say that you're about a 45 minute drive away?"

"Yes." I huffed out.

"Then I advise you to start making your way in."

That advice was the best advice I had ever taken. By the time we arrived at the hospital, I was nine centimetres dilated without contractions, ten with contractions. My waters were subsequently broken and within three pushes, my precious baby girl was placed into my arms and into my heart. When I had my daughter, I finally felt complete as a mother. I had my two boys, then I had her.

I had lost my beloved Gramp, yet gained so much more. Life wasn't always easy, far from it. Juggling a job with motherhood and being a wife, then throw in the Asperger's....yeah, life was pretty full on.

But I coped and I was happy.

I had a wonderful family.

A job that I loved.

All was just as it should be.....

.....until fate decided that it wasn't.