Lonely. That’s how I felt as I sat on the back verandah watching my two year old son play in the sand pit. It was only 9am. I’d been up since 5am with the baby (thankfully now asleep in her cot). As I stared out over the huge backyard, I felt a heavy weight descend upon me. How was I going to get through the next 12 hours on my own? My husband, absent at work, would be home at 2am. I missed him. I rarely saw him since he’d taken on three jobs so we could save enough money to move from the shoe-box house we inhabited, situated on a busy main road in Sydney.