and not just because I am a mother, no, more than this, because I am human and I am sorry if this has been discussed recently - I feel the need.
On 12th February 1993 my oldest child went across the street to play with another boy at his house.
I was pregnant with my third child, born April 8th and I was at home with my middle child who was about 17 months old.
I heard on the news about a baby missing in a shopping mall in Liverpool and felt very sad.
When my husband came home from work that day, I went across to collect my son who was sitting on the counter top in his friend's house and they were eating ketchup sandwiches which made me feel sick - apparently the other boy's favourite food. He didn't want to come home, I mean... who would when there was such a good alternative?
I told the mum I was taking the dogs out and she said he could stay there until I got back.
Forgive me... I remember everything about this day acutely.
I took the car and drove to the woods where my dogs ran about and I remember this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach and cried a lot.
Later the enormity of that day was a horrible reality and my heart and soul went out to Denise Bulger/Fergus and really, it has done ever since.
I think about that innocent baby a lot. I lost my own child in 2017, the one I was pregnant with on that day. He was killed in a car crash aged 24.
My life sort of ended that night and it has taken something out of me that I will never get back - anyone who has lost a child will understand this.
I remember thinking that I understood a little better how she must feel since I lost him.
I watched the programmes on TV this week about James. I had always felt the two boys deserved a better life and did not feel the same anger as Denise Fergus felt, but having watched the two programmes I now get why she wanted them to pay something for their crime, and feel she should have been listened to and heard.
RIP James