One of the defining facts of my life is that I was born into a very large family in rural Ireland. The only boy in a household of nine unique individuals, each with their own incredible personality, I was fortunate to experience a childhood that was filled with love and support. The close bond I had with my parents and six sisters has informed my values and kept me grounded through the ups and downs of my life, giving me a sense of safety and security I could always fall back on.

I came screaming into the world on 13 June 1978, the eldest of seven children. The next month, my mum, Rosie, was pregnant with my sister Michelle. She was born in April, so there were just ten months between us. We were in the same class at school, we made our Communion together, our Confirmation together, started secondary school together and sat the Junior Cert together. Then Michelle did Transition Year and I went straight to Fifth Year. At school, we pretended we were twins because we were so embarrassed that we were so close in age.

One time, when we were older, Michelle and I examined an ashtray our mum and dad got as a wedding gift. It said, ‘1 April 1978’. That’s when we realised something was up. If they got married in April ’78 and I was born in June ’78, that would mean Mum was with child when she got married! We were in such shock. When we put it to Mum, she just said, ‘Oh, they just put the wrong date on it. It should have been April 1977.’ She had a habit of fudging stuff like that. But, funnily enough, if Mum saw a woman with a young baby who was pregnant again, she’d say she ‘got caught’.

My sister Valerie arrived in 1980, and then Tracey, Paula, Aoife and our youngest sister, Tara, followed. So, I was the only boy among six sisters. Growing up, I suppose I was spoiled because I was Mum’s only son. I had my own bedroom while the girls had to share, I wore brand-new clothes while the girls were subjected to an endless recycling of hand-me-downs. Even when it came to chores, Mum would say, ‘You girls do the washing up and let Brian study.’

We were always the last to get the memo on Mum’s pregnancies. Every time a new baby arrived, we honestly didn’t even know she was pregnant. She was very good at hiding it and would only start to show towards the end. Tara was born in November, and I remember Mum only telling us a month before. She also never told anyone her due date.

‘When are you due?’

‘Soon,’ she’d reply.

She didn’t purposely hide her pregnanci