The drive to Liverpool felt like it took forever. Oakley and I were heading for his ninth surgery. We only got the news a short time ago which I talked about before, and it was a mad rush to get everything organized with the family. Oakley was so unbothered when we got there, always so full of life, playing and laughing even in the hospital before his surgery, brought me a fleeting sense of peace. His innocence and joy are such a contrast to the heavy burden we carry as mums, especially on the brink of another operation. He just smiled and played with his toys and I was the one left to worry.

When the surgery itself happened, let me tell you it was grueling. Oakley had punctures in the dura lining of his brain. The doctors assured me they tried to fix it and would be monitoring him closely, but their words couldn’t quiet the pit in my belly. Sitting in that theatre room, it was all I could do to keep myself from falling apart. Watching my little boy go through something so daunting, I was a bundle of nerves, my mind racing with ‘what-ifs.’