It was somewhere I could be in my own little world, worry about Jack but also sit calmly with my own thoughts

I’m a family man, so when two new additions came along in 2013 I was over the moon. My twin boys were born at our local hospital, Pembury, and, as with most twins, they were kept in for around a month for a couple of minor issues. We weren’t worried; we were just excited about having new-born twins.

When we carried them both into the house a few days after Christmas it was a fantastic feeling. After spending Christmas between hospital with Cameron and Jack and home with my older children Hannah, Ella, and Luke – having everyone together was really special.

However, the boys were still struggling a little with their breathing and were admitted back into Pembury for another short stay. When they were once again released home, we breathed a sigh of relief.

But we weren’t aware that the worst was yet to come.

It happened on an evening in April when the twins were 4/5 months old. I had just arrived home from work and my wife Sarah and the kids were all there, but something was wrong. When I went to say hello to Jack, I saw that he was off colour, sort of bluey/grey. I immediately went with him to my next door neighbour, who is an ex-neonatal nurse and she advised us to go straight to our GP.

The experience at the GP’s was like none other. She took one look at Jack and called in the specialist Paediatric GP . He asked for an Ambulance immediately.

Before I knew it, flashing lights were illuminating the surgery and four paramedics came into the room, they got to work on Jack and I just stood back and let them do what they needed. Jack was rushed to Pembury by ambulance. I wasn’t allowed to travel with him, I jumped in the second ambulance and we chased after them.

I remember thinking that it was like a scene out of Casualty. We smashed through the doors in A&E and headed straight for the Paediatric section. I watched the doctors working away on my tiny son while a consultant explained that if they didn’t intubate him right away to help him breathe, there would be nothing more they could do.

I just stood there trying to keep out of the way as much as possible while keeping a close eye on Jack. I trusted the doctors would do whatever they could to save my little boy as I watched him literally he fight for life.

Once the doctors had controlled Jack’s breathing, I was advised that he needed to be moved for specialist treatment at another hospital. The wait for a specialist infant ambulance was only an hour or so, but in that situation an hour feels like an eternity.

We could have gone to any of ten hospitals, but by luck, we ended up at The Royal London – not too far from home and very close to my office in the City.

Again, we crashed through the doors of The Royal London. It was getting close to midnight by the time they finally managed to stabilise him. For that first night I was fortunate enough to be offered a bed on the ward. If I hadn’t, I would have found somewhere, even if that meant the floor of my office.

The following morning, Jack’s condition hadn’t changed and I had no idea how long we’d be there. It was horrible. Jack being so poorly and Sarah and the kids being so far away, but there was nowhere else I was going to be. As a father, my kids come first and I knew I had to be there for him.

It transpired Jack had pneumonia and a virus which is very dangerous for new born babies. He had wires and tubes all over his body, and a machine breathing for him.

I was alone by Jack’s side for the whole time he was in hospital, while Sarah, Jack’s twin Cameron and our other children were back home in Kent. I spoke to them regularly, but it was so lonely. In that situation, you need a crutch – maybe more so if you are separated from the rest of your family.

I found my crutch at The Sick Children’s Trust’s Stevenson House– a two-minute walk from Jack’s neonatal intensive care unit. It was my lifeline, a real ‘Home from Home’.

Stevenson House helped enormously - it was somewhere I could be in my own little world, worry about Jack but also sit calmly with my own thoughts.

To put it simply, The Sick Children’s Trust is an amazing charity. I met people staying there for ten months, free of charge. Now, I’m not someone who obsesses over ‘What ifs?’ but it made me think that, for families who aren’t financially stable or have other children, if the likes of Stevenson House wasn’t available, what would they do?

Although I kept myself to myself in the house, what really made it stand out was one member of staff called Irma. She’s an incredible lady, so warm and kind. As I mentioned, it could get quite lonely and just exchanging a few words with Irma, who you could tell genuinely cared about my situation, made the house so much more valuable.

Every day, I’d get back in touch with the real world by posting updates on Jack’s condition on Facebook. The amount of support that came flooding in was incredible and that’s what finally got to me. I was so overwhelmed by the kindness from family, friends and even friends of friends.

I’m so thankful that now, a year later, Jack is doing really well. He’s a healthy, happy little man about to enter the terrible two’s.

I can’t thank The Sick Children’s Trust enough. I’m doing my best to raise funds and donate what I can from the house’s wish list. We recently popped into Stevenson House with hundreds of pounds’ worth of toys, toiletries and food supplies that my work colleagues, my children’s schools, our friends and family all kindly gifted.

For anyone who may find themselves in a similar situation, I hope you receive the same support I did. It can be a very lonely time when your child is sick and you need to find the support wherever you can. I am incredibly grateful for the care and comfort I have received, and I will never forget it.