Sitting in the cafe opposite a woman I’d never met before, I stared down at my cup of coffee and untouched pastry. It was August 2019 and I’d not had much of an appetite for weeks. In fact, looking after myself had been so far down on my priorities. I’d just about managed to brush my hair and disguise the bags under my eyes with a bit of concealer for this meeting. The truth was, life at that moment felt surreal – like one big terrifying blur. And the woman sat in front of me, Rachel Ollerenshaw, then 49, knew exactly how I felt because she had been where I was – living every mother’s worst nightmare. As she spoke softly to me, telling me about her
