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They said a mother knows best and I believed them. Was I wrong?It is supposed to be a dream. James and I have been trying for years.

But now it is starting to feel like a nightmare. Doctors don’t ask questions, or care about how you’re feeling. They just tell you what to do.

They never listen. Mam and James don’t understand either. James thinks I’m being anxious and Mam says it’ll pass.

It always does. That’s what she did when Dad died. I’ve never felt more alone.

Or scared. Then I joined an online group for mothers. A sisterhood, really.

They might be on a screen, but sometimes it feels like they know me better than James. They listen, they care. It’s all I could have asked for.

Until the worst happens and I see them for who they are. But if I leave, what if they come for me next?