How could I tell him what happened?

Kayleigh Connor, 31, had long dreaded the day her precious son Oscar would ask her why he looks different to other children

- FIONA KINLOCH, FIONA LOCKE

Watching my son, Oscar, then three, scooting around on the trampoline in our garden, I couldn’t help but mimic his infectious smile. Boisterous, cheerful and often mischievous, Oscar was just like any other toddler. But there was one thing in particular that made my boy extra special. And as he edged towards the end of the trampoline that day in summer 2020 and cast his gaze down to his lower half, he ignited the very conversation I’d been dreading for so long. ‘You’ve got feet, Daddy’s got feet, but I don’t have feet,’ he announced.

Unsure of what to say, there was a momentary silence between us. How could I even begin to tell my precious boy about the trauma he went through as a baby? And how could I detail the almost impossible decisions that we’d had to make as parents?

After a textbook first few months of pregnancy, my husband, James, then 30, and I couldn’t wait to see our second baby at the 20-week scan. We were so excited to have a much-longed-for sibling for our daughter, Maisie, then seven. But panic set in as the doctor stared in silence at the ultrasound image.

We knew there was something wrong when, instead of getting good news during the scan, we were asked to follow the doctor into a private room and sit down. ‘I’m afraid your son isn’t developing in the way we’d expect,’ he said. On the scan, you could see his little legs shaped almost like a frog’s.

Heartbreaking choice