Watching my son Michael, then two, cradle his six-month-old baby brother, Johnathan, in his arms and gently kiss his head, I nudged my husband AJ, then 32. ‘So sweet,’ I mouthed, not wanting to disturb such a precious bonding moment. It was July 2019 and since Johnathan, or Nugget as we’d nicknamed him, had entered the world our family felt complete.
Johnathan was calmer than his older brother and a peaceful addition to the family. Over the next few months, he thrived. At 11 months, he took his first steps, and babbled away. ‘Tickle, tickle, tickle,’ he said, signalling the start of his favourite game.
In December 2020, when Johnathan was 23 months old, I dropped the boys off at nursery before going
