This is in Hertford, I drop Phoebe off at my parents and walk to the session, just a short 5 minute walk pushing my boy in the pram. We are early and the building is shut, so we walk round to see the ducks. I cannot restrain myself while watching my boy chat to the ducks, the tears just flow, I seem to have no control at the moment.

It’s in a run down building – however a lovely lady meets us. I’ve no idea what to expect, I’m new to all of this. I get given more paperwork about his condition, local groups, local support. I take it, but I’ve no interest in it – I don’t want to read about this, it shouldn’t be happening to us.

I spend an hour and all I’m trying to do is stay strong and not cry, again, in front of my son and another stranger.

Some more physical assessments on my boy – he does so well, no moaning, no crying, he just gets on with it all.

I walk him back to my parents in his buggy and cry and let those walking past see my tears, but never my boy, for now.

God I love him so much, I’m breaking.