Our story starts in 2012 on a cold February evening. Me and a friend had gone out for drinks, and after one too many we made the decision to go to a local club. After the taxi ride and the fresh air had gone to our heads we literally fell out of a taxi. What I didn’t know was that we were seen falling out of said taxi – something I laugh about now. Well into the club/bar we went, where I was met by this young lad who I had known through people. He offered to buy me a drink, his name was Ash. After that night we exchanged numbers, and over a few months we found we really liked one another and had a lot in common.

On Saturday 13^th November 2021 our lives changed forever. The youngest of my three sons, William, aged 21 months, had a minor temperature that day, ranging from 37-38 degrees, but he was still happy, playing and full of energy. Late afternoon I popped him in his high chair with his dinner, I went around the corner to the fridge in our kitchen and when I returned William was having his first febrile seizure. I called 999 and the paramedics arrived within 6 minutes, but it took 45 minutes for his fitting to stop. After what felt like the longest hour of my life, I stroked William’s arm and told him Mummy was here. He didn’t respond, but the paramedics reassured me that this wasn’t unusual due to the length of his seizure and the diazepam that was given to him.

I stood helplessly and watched as the medical team slowly and carefully settled William into the ambulance that was parked on our driveway. Then all of a sudden the pace changed; it became urgent and noisy and the doors to the back of the vehicle were closed.

“Love Forever”, a quote that my husband read to us during a time where we all felt the love we hold for our loved ones, will always be with us forever. A strong quote that continues to resonate especially in the last two years of dealing with not one but two losses.

Our story began in March 2020 where I was a 32-year-old self who to this day loves a good adventure and make lasting memories. At 17, I met my now husband, Adam, who I have always known from the beginning, regardless of the ups and downs, he was going to be my first/forever love, my future husband and the father of my children. When the day came, we decided to start a family, I cannot tell you how bloody happy I was. We found out towards the end of March 2020, after returning from a well-deserved holiday, that we were expecting our first baby. We cried with sheer happiness. We were in such awe that we had created this special human being, we couldn’t wait to start our next adventure as parents.

We all know how babies are made – sex, egg, sperm, womb, then 9 months later, a baby. We assume this is also how a mother is made – you can’t be a mother without the baby bit, right? But I was a mother long before I held my living baby in my arms. My motherhood was forged in fear, and blood, and emptiness – years of battle that tore me open in ways that can never be repaired.

But let me start at the beginning.