The playful NEW ME

With her health worries behind her, Kirsty Rigby is finally in the swing of family life

- MICHELLE RAWLINS

Lifting my head from the pile of books, I suddenly knew that the career path I’d worked towards wasn’t to be. I’d been determined to go into medicine, and was in the fourth year of my degree. But no matter how much I’d imagined becoming a doctor, something meant far more to me – becoming a mum.

‘I’m going to swap to social work,’ I told my partner, Matt. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked. I’d never been more certain of anything. If I carried on, it would be at least another decade before I could think about having children, and I didn’t have 10 years.

At seven years old, I’d been diagnosed with leukaemia, and though the two years of treatment had been successful, it had come at a cost. I’d probably have a shorter time frame than most to fall pregnant.

As a little girl, I’d just been happy to feel well again. But the cancer treatment had a lasting legacy on my weight. The steroids stimulated my appetite, so I felt hungry all the time. By the end of primary school, I was big for my age and the other kids taunted me. Whenever I felt hurt or fed up, I turned to food for comfort. When I left secondary school, I was around a size 16. My mum, Sally, tried to help, suggesting calorie counting. I gave it a go, but it wasn’t something I could stick to. Then, just before my 17th birthday, I met Matt, who was taking part in a sponsored swim at the pool where I was a lifeguard.

Our dates revolved around takeaways, and I soon crept up another size. Four years later, when my medical team explained I’d struggle to become a mum, Matt gave me a cuddle and said, ‘Don’t worry, we’ll make it work.’