Hunger Blame

Aimee Byron, 18, from Fareham, knew there was something very wrong with her baby...

- Laea Marshall And Harriet Rose-Gale

Smearing cold jelly over my tummy, the sonographer smiled.

‘So, do you have any names yet?’ she asked .

It was October last year, and I was five months pregnant.

It had come as a complete surprise, but my boyfriend Will, 21, and I were so excited.

We were both young, but we knew this was what we wanted.

And now, at my 20-week scan, we were desperate to know if our baby was healthy.

‘I like Jamie,’ I said.

‘Is that for a boy or a girl?’ the sonographer asked.

‘Both,’ I smiled. ‘I think it works either way.’

A few weeks later, my mum Jo, 42, had a surprise for us.

It was Halloween, and she’d come over to ours with a pumpkin – carved open at the top to form a lid.

‘What’s all this?’ I laughed, as she set it down on the dining room table.

‘I called the doctor,’ she confessed.

‘I needed to know if I was having a granddaughter or a grandson!’

‘What’s with the pumpkin then?’ I asked, confused.

‘Open the lid,’ Mum smiled.

Will and I looked at each other with raised eyebrows, then we reached for the top of the pumpkin.

And as we lifted it up, a huge wad of blue tinsel came out.

‘It’s a boy!’ Mum cried.

Will and I stared at each other in disbelief.

‘I’m having son!’ Will cried.

We were over the moon.

The next few months passed in a blur of buying Babygros and decorating the nursery.

And on 23 January, at Queen Alexandra Hospital in Portsmouth, I gave birth to Jamie, weighing 7lb 5oz.

‘He’s gorgeous,’ I cried. Taking him home the next day, it was amazing being a family of three.

Jamie was tiny and perfect, and I spent ages staring at his adorable little features.