In 2009, when Charles was only around 5 months old I visited my doctor to talk about feelings I had been having.
Not post natal depression, but anxious feelings which were strong, unbearable at times, and involved clear, very vivid images in my head. A lot of things I haven't shared because some of them are quite disturbing and heartbreaking.
One of the images which prompted my visit to the doctor was of Charles being run over.
I was walking along a road with him, and the path was narrow and I think this is what caused the images to appear. I panicked at the cars driving past us so close, and in my head I pictured his pushchair going over and him being run over.
It was so clear, and so graphic, that I can still see it now.
Charles has always been quite good when it comes to road sense and car parks. He has tried to run away a few times when he was little but would never get far. He understands that he needs to stay close to the car and now will talk to me, or hold my leg, when I put Harry in the car so that I know he is close by.
I'm only now letting Harry walk places, rather than being stuck in a pushchair, and on Friday I decided to take him to a retail park so we could buy some bits from Argos.
We were able to park right outside the door so it was easy for him to walk in, and for us to walk back to the car as I knew I would have a couple of big bags.
It didn't quite go to plan as he ran away from me, into the road, ignoring my calls of him to stop and come back, instead just giggling.
30 seconds earlier he would have been hit by a car.
Thankfully there was nothing coming.
I put down the bags on the path and ran after him, but it felt like I was going in slow motion. I didn't even look to see if a car was coming, but I prepared myself for impact.
I prepared myself for the image of my son underneath a car.
I saw him under a car. So graphic.
I saw myself sat cradling him.
I saw myself at hospital with him.
These images going round and round and round.
But nothing happened.
No impact. Nothing. No cars. Just us in the middle of the road and a few people over on the path walking along slowly and watching.
Why don't people help? Why would people choose to stand back and watch a mother desperately trying to catch her child and possibly save him from a car? Why would people choose to want to watch a 2 year old get run over than to take a chance at maybe offending me by helping me out?
I wouldn't have been offended, I would have been incredibly grateful.
I'm not blaming people. It wasn't their fault. But I'm surprised everyday by how selfish we are sometimes.
As we got into the car Harry just laughed at me. He clearly didn't understand how serious this could have been.
He certainly didn't know what was going on in my head.
Those images still going round, added to the images from 4 years ago which decided to join me again.
I felt and feel angry at him for running.
I felt and feel angry at him for not understanding.
I felt and feel angry at myself for trusting him.
I felt and feel angry at myself for thinking he was responsible enough to not need to hold my hand, or to be on reins or in a pushchair.
I'm angry at myself.
I sat in the car shaking, unable to drive. Just trying to calm my mind down and to realise that he was safe, in the back of the car.
I eventually drove away, still shaking, but still seeing those images.
I shouted at him, he laughed, he didn't understand.
But I was still replaying those images, so vivid.
Even now, it's as if it happened.
It's silly to some, I know that. And I wish my brain didn't work this way, but it does.
I can't filter it out and I've tried, I'm trying, I'll continue to try but the feelings just over take and really, there's nothing I can do.
I can't get rid of it.
I am given time apart from the feelings, a break from them, but then they come back.
It's just something I have to live with.