The first time we knew our son Arthur was poorly, was in a moment of silence just after he was delivered. Newborns normally announce their arrival into the world with a cry. Arthur's cry was replaced by the noise of stressed midwives and hospital alarms. 

Within an hour Arthur was diagnosed as showing signs of abnormal brain activity - seizures.

But no one told us about the bravery, determination & unwavering love that we would witness in our son on a daily basis. No one told us how adoring his cuddles would be. Or that he would have a sense of humor.  

At points Arthur suffered 60 or 70 seizures in a single day. The doctors fought to bring his epilepsy under control, but as one consultant told us the treatment of epilepsy was 'more of an art form than a science'. We were on the edge of medical understanding. No simple combination of drugs or diet would work for Arthur. 

Ask any parent and they will tell you that you never get used to watching your child have a seizure. For nearly seven months James and I comforted Arthur while seizure after seizure overtook his body. 

Arthur died on the 6th July 2013. 

For me, there is a part of life that stopped when we buried Arthur. A washing basket of baby grows still haven't been washed. But the world has kept on turning. 

More babies have been born with underdeveloped brains. More parents have sat and watched their child fit. And more doctors have tried to make it stop.

So two years on from the week that Arthur died James and I are returning to the edge of medical understanding. But now it's to show our support for those trying to figure out the 'whys?', 'hows?', and 'what ifs?' of epilepsy. We are raising money so that an art form can become science.

And if our fundraising is enough to stop one other parent from having to watch as their child seizes - that will be enough for us.