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Words I'd hoped I'd never have to hear.

But I did, whilst cradling my six month old son Max.

What was happening? How had we ended up here?

I distinctly remember holding Max and attempting to mutter: "It's just us now, but everything is going to be fine." He couldn't have possibly understood of course, but I really meant it.

The lovely Vicar who had had married us and later christened Max presided over Samantha's funeral. 

We did our best to celebrate Sam's life, but the funeral was never going to be a happy occasion.

Instead Max and I went to my parents' house. My sanctuary. Where I'd grown up. Mom and Dad were fantastic to both of us.

Max

When Sam was pregnant, I remember being constantly reminded by a variety of people that a child needs routine, routine and more routine. 

Now more than ever was that relevant.

I made the decision to leave my job and become a full-time, stay-at-home dad to Max.

What a change; I went from devising strategic business plans to working out swim-nappies, almost overnight.

I wouldn't go as far to say that I loved my job. It didn't really excite me. But it did pay very well and allowed us to live the family life we had.

Many doubted my decision and told me so, but this was my choice.

I would much rather have regretted giving my son a few years of my life, than regret missing out on a few of his.

Out and about

It wasn't long before we were out and about. 

At first toddler groups were very hard, but I'd only be upset at home, so an occasional public cry wasn't a problem. And Max was enjoying them.

The truth is I loved our time together. Max was my mini-colossus. Being so young he really didn't understand what had happened to us. But all his energy was now focused on me and we became incredibly close.

Life had dealt me the cruellest of blows. I was a widower and single parent at the age of 28. I'd quit my job to look after my son. I couldn't plan anything past tomorrow.

How long was I going to be able to keep this up?