I suppose Sands United is the team you never want to be a part of, but once you're part of that team there's no going back. They're the team you like to admire from a distance, but not actually support. Like the Leicester City a few years back, or a team on an FA Cup giant killing run. But behind every supporter of small club there's a story that ties them together.

Hi my name is Josh, and this is our story.

I want to start my story at a place that many parents will remember, in the car, with your partner driving to the hospital. Many of us have been there. Excited, daunted, nervous. Not knowing quite how life would change in the next 24 hours.

We'd been through it about 4 years prior. On that occasion I sat in the passengers seat as my mother in law dropped us off, to avoid the astronomical hospital parking fees. So really I felt quite prepared for what was to happen. I was not.

We were met by some midwives who took us in to won of the delivery suites, my wife sat on a bed. I took the bags and coat stuck them on the weird rolly table and then sat myself down by the window. If last time was anything to go by I was in for many hours of waiting with offers of tea and toast through out the time. I was not.

Conversation quickly turned to my wife's condition. She had rung the hospital because contractions had started. They also asked about some of the other signs of labour that occur, I'll leave out the details, but they decided to strap on the monitors to check everything was ok. It was not.

A trainee midwife was using the pink and blue bands to monitor the baby, being a trainee she was struggling to get them in the right place. She'll get it eventually I thought to myself. She did not.

It was only when a few more people entered the room that I began to be concerned. Three midwives, a senior looking consultant and a doctor dressed in scrubs seemingly ready for surgery was what I saw. My brain said well I guess this is a C-section then. It was not.

People often talk about three little words being enough to change the course of your life. Three little words that can knock you off your feet, reduce you to tears and leave you in the arms of a loved one. Well after scanning some more with the full ultrasound and jelly combination we heard those three small words from the consultant. I am sorry.

To be honest I don't remember much of the next 24 hours. We were spoken to a lot, we spoke to eachother slightly less. Phoning our parents is probably the hardest phone call I've ever had to make. I could hardly string a sentence together I barely mumbled. We lost him.

At 10:32 on October 20th 2018, 3 weeks before he was due to arrive, after what I now understand is a very quick enduced labour, with drugs-a-plenty, my second son was delivered in to the world. Asher William Waldock.

Of course that young boy never breathed the oxygen that he so desperately needed. He never saw the face of his parents he never grew annoyed at his big brother. All the life moments that I'd never get to live with him flashed through my mind as I cried. He did not.

Later that day we had visitors the grandparents were easy to deal with, they were heartbroken too, but they understood death and loss. The hardest part was bringing Eli in to the room, explaining to him what had happened, and explaining that he's a big brother and the best one ever at that. But when we're able to go home. Asher will not.

Other than that conversation the rest of that week, really, is a blur. But I soon realised how truly lucky I am. Being able to go home and still do bed time, to still do bath time, to still wipe bums and tell my little boy to stop playing with his peepee is a privilege and one that not every one in my situation has. So to those of you who are still waiting to take a child home from hospital. You are amazing.

The other positive of having a (now) 4 year old is having to explain your emotions in a way that a 4 year old can understand. Which first means you have to understand your emotions and then you have to be willing to communicate them. So if you don't have a listening ear find one, please. Keep on talking.

After getting past barriers, like my birthday, going back to work, the funeral, Eli's birthday, Christmas & new year, we got results from the post-mortem. Honestly, we were expecting to be told they couldn't find a reason. Wrong once again.

Lymphocytic Villitus is what we were told. Which doesn't really mean a lot to me, but when you go through the autopsy process with the hope of it being used to allow someone else to not have to, having any answer is good. The other news was the likelihood of repetition. That was less good. 25% - one in four.

We were told it was relatively unstudied, but our data could be sent to a researcher that would enable more studies to be done. My hope is that someone gets life because of his death. Perhaps even you.

So that's why I'm a supporter of Sands United, that's my tie to this team. I'll probably never get to a game, I'll certainly never get to play - but the knowing that there's some guys an hour and a half away supporting each other in this way is amazing.

Knowing also that they are supporting the guys at SandsUK who do so much to help people going through the loss and grief of similar situations is doubly amazing.

#StillBornStillLoved #StandUnitedSandsUnited