What no one ever told me about grief was that no matter how much time passed, no matter how much I tried to work through it (hello therapy), no matter how much I thought I’d got away with it, I would never be able to escape it. That complex web of emotions, unanswered questions and sheer gut-wrenching sadness would always be there, lurking away, poised ready to pounce when I least expected it. And bamm, just like that, out it would come armed with the cruel ability to turn one of the happiest moments of my life upside down. That moment came early on a Tuesday morning in the summer of 2011 when my son was born. As I sat with him in my arms I reached for my phone to call my mum. I mean, that’s what you do when you’ve just had baby isn’t it? You call your mum. Only then it hit me, like a truck, like a freight train, like all the cliches you can think of. My chest suddenly heavy, …