I was 20 weeks pregnant when our car was hit from behind while we waited at a red traffic light. We were hit by a man driving some massive lorry with a masonry crane on the back, biggest thing I've seen on the road, and we were pushed through the red light into oncoming traffic.
We lost our baby two weeks later, she was born prematurely and was too tiny to survive. I almost died as well.
The man driving the lorry wasn't drunk. He was in a hurry to get back to his yard for the end of the day, didn't use his handbrake, and was wearing wet boots. His foot slipped and jolted his lorry forward into us.
So for the sake of a couple of seconds of his time, some muddy footwear and his decision not to put his handbrake on, our daughter died.
I find it hard to explain how I feel about this man.
In a couple of seconds, a moment of bad driving, he took our daughter and nearly killed me. He didn't mean it, and I know he was remorseful, even there at the roadside he was apologising as soon as he stepped down from the cab of the lorry, and when he realised I was pregnant he was even more upset.
He wasn't prosecuted, and I don't think I would have wanted him to be in those circumstances.
But he went home to his family, his wife and children, he went to work the next day, his life didn't change in any dramatic way.
And our daughter died at two hours old, while we held her and watched her go.
I do find it hard sometimes, to accept that his life carried on regardless.
He's just a lorry driver, rather than a footballer. Nobody cares if he kept his job or not. I still have to drive passed the junction where he hit us. Sometimes we even see the lorry there, driving along the same bit of the road. And that hurts.
I don't know how much more it would hurt if he were someone famous, in a celebrity job, and I had to watch him and his workmates justify his actions in the press on a regular basis, or hear total strangers say he'd served his time or had to live with the knowledge of what he had done. That's no punishment, living with what you have done.
I doubt the man who killed my baby thinks of her every day. I doubt he even remembers what we looked like. He didn't see her fighting for her life for two hours, he didn't hold her or watch her die. He didn't feel just as proud of her as any other parent to any other newborn when she waved her fist and opened her mouth. He doesn't visit her grave or wonder what colour her eyes were, or what colour hair she would have had. He doesn't even know her name.
I can say that the man who killed my daughter made a split second foolish decision. He chose not to use his handbrake while driving an enormous lorry in muddy boots and bad weather. And I can say that I accept that. I don't forgive him for it, but I don't wish him ill for it either. I'd just like to think that she had a greater effect on him than being the end of a bad day he forgot about in a matter of weeks.
But I don't think I could say the same if he were someone who chose to drink and drive. That's not a split second foolish decision, it's a deliberate choice to endanger every other life on the road. It's something that can't ever be fixed or taken back by a couple of years in prison, not when you take lives because of it.
Rehabilitation isn't just serving time or saying sorry. It's something that you prove every day for the rest of your life by acting on your remorse and showing it. It's not something you just say and it's not something you claim has giving you a point to prove by going back to your old life and carrying on as though nothing has happened.