‘You’re pregnant,’ my mum, Julie, 52, announced, as she perched on the edge of the bed. ‘You know that don’t you, Gemma?’

Glancing around the room, I couldn’t have been more dazed and confused.
‘It’s ok, don’t worry,’ my mum said, clutching my hand reassuringly, sensing my fear. ‘You’ve been in an accident, you’ve just woken up after almost three months in a coma and you’re in hospital,’
I had no idea how I had ended up where I was and not the faintest clue as to how I had fallen pregnant. My mind was a complete blank.
I realised whatever had happened to me must have been serious when I caught sight of my dad, William, 53.
‘Hello love,’ he whispered softly.
We hadn’t spoken in 19 years, since he and my mum divorced, but he had cut his holiday short and flown back to be by my side when my sister, Michelle, 29, had got in touch.
She told him about the accident I had been in.
It didn’t feel like real life, but more of dream, as I heard about what had gone on.
On 8th September 2012, I had jumped on to my moped and set off on the 30-minute drive from my home in Hilperton for my shift as a care worker at a nursing home in Warminster, Wiltshire. It is the last thing I can recall.
Not long into the journey, I had collided with a parked car and Michelle found me lying unconscious in the middle of the road.
She frantically called the emergency services and watched in horror as I was resuscitated, before being airlifted to Frenchay Hospital, in Bristol.
I slipped into a coma, after suffering severe head and neck injuries in the smash.
My family all rushed to be by my side when medics told them it looked as if I wasn’t going to make it. They held a vigil and prayed that I would pull through.
Just a week after the accident, while I was still out for the count, my mum was pulled to one side.
‘Gemma won’t be able to undergo the vital surgery she needs on her back to help her walk…’ the doctor told her, ‘… it’s because she’s pregnant.’

Her jaw dropped in shock.
‘She can’t be,’ she stammered, baffled by the announcement.
‘She definitely is,’ the doctor assured her. ‘She’s around four weeks gone.’
I had been due on my period the weekend of the accident, but because I hadn’t missed it and didn’t have any morning sickness or other pregnancy-related symptoms, I had no idea that I might be expecting – and neither did she.
Worried sick about the fragile condition I was in, Mum decided it was best to keep the news to herself at first.
Eventually she confided in my sister who was just as astounded, but Michelle couldn’t help feel a burst of excitement at the thought of becoming an auntie.
I had been in a coma for around three weeks when medics tried to bring me out of it to see how my body would cope.
I remained completely unresponsive and then suddenly started fitting, so they were forced to medically induce me back into a coma for a further eight weeks.
Finally after almost three months out cold, I started to come around.
Suffering from amnesia, I had lost all memory of the previous THREE YEARS of my life.
That meant I had no recollection of Luke, 31, the father of my unborn baby and our fall-out a fortnight earlier remained a mystery to me.

My progress was gradual. I opened one eye at first and then started to track movement around the room.
It took a few weeks but I finally opened both of my eyes. Still everything was a bit of a blur.
‘She keeps blowing us kisses,’ my mum giggled to one of the nurses.
‘I’m not sure she understands quite what she’s doing yet,’ the nurse replied.
But mum was certain. ‘Go on then, ask her to blow a kiss and she will,’ she said.
And sure enough I did. Unable to find my voice, it was my way of communicating.
I couldn’t remember anything I was told and every day the doctors, along with my family and friends, would have to repeat themselves over and over again.
I felt like a sieve, with the information draining out of my brain.
They kept reminding me that I was pregnant to prevent me from being so taken aback when I finally clocked.
Eventually it clicked when I was around three-and-a-half months pregnant.

I began to understand and it all began to sink in. I started to register that I was having a baby and was soon going to become a mum.
Although my stomach was as flat as a pancake, with no bulging baby bump emerging making it all the more difficult to believe.
‘You still have the option to terminate the pregnancy,’ the consultant said, making sure I was aware of all of my choices.
But I knew I couldn’t abort my unborn child. I had dreamt about my baby and knew that, although it came as a complete surprise, it was meant to be.
Confined to a wheelchair for the final five months of my pregnancy, I was only able to have physiotherapy as the surgery I needed had to wait until after I had given birth.

Determined to get back on my feet, I did manage to stand if my legs were propped up but I couldn’t walk at all.
It was November 2012 when I was able to utter my first words since the crash.
I remember turning to my doctor and saying: ‘What? How did I get pregnant?’
He made light of the situation and jokingly said: ‘There’s only one way it could have happened.’
After almost four months in three different hospitals, I was finally allowed home after being discharged on Thursday 19th December, 2012.
At the end of the month I felt my baby kick for the first time.
‘Ahhh,’ I squealed with delight, it felt like bubbles in my stomach. It was so surreal.
Gazing at the monitor during my 20-week scan a few days later, I decided to find out if the fuzzy black-and-white image of my baby was going to be my son or daughter.
My motherly instinct was proved right when the sonographer confirmed that I was expecting a little boy.
I clutched my bump instinctively and felt an overwhelming sense of love. I couldn’t wait for him to arrive.
As I stocked up on nappies, babygros and cuddly teddy bears – all in blue – the idea of becoming a first-time mum started to become more real.
‘Not long now,’ my mum squealed excitedly, as the date for my planned caesarean approached. She was eager to meet her grandchild.
But there was still one thing left for me to do before I welcomed him into the world – tell his dad about him.
I sent a text and managed to pluck up the courage to break the news to Luke. It took him a while to get his head around it, but he vowed to be a part of his son’s life.
On Thursday 2nd May, two weeks before my due date, I was induced to ease the pressure on my back and gave birth to a healthy little boy.
As he was held up for me to see for the first time, I bawled my eyes out. I was just so happy to see him after everything we’d been through together.

‘He’s perfect,’ my mum gushed, as she planted a kiss on my forehead, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks too.
Weighing 5lbs 15oz, I named him Rueben Miracle William Holmes.
Medics delivered more good news and said that now Rueben has arrived I can have the operation I need to walk in six months’ time.
The medication I will need after the surgery will stop me from being able to breast feed, so they want to give me some time to bond with my baby first.
But it means I could be learning to walk again in two years – at the same time Rueben will be taking his first steps.
I’ve been warned that my back will need to be broken to put metal plates in, but if it means I’ll be back on my feet to run around and play with Rueben it will be worth the agony.

Luke is a proud dad and has stayed true to his word. He visits Rueben every day.
There’s no way we will be getting back together, but I’m pleased he wants to be involved.
My mum has helped me out a lot, but I am able to feed Rueben and change his nappy.
He is such a good baby and has settled right in at home. I even have to wake him up for his milk.
I have been told that I said some time before the crash I didn’t want kids before I was 30. Obviously that didn’t go to plan, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. Rueben is the best thing that ever happened to me.
Mum Julie added: ‘Gemma is so happy and so excited about the baby. It’s amazing he is here after everything that has happened.
‘We had some scares during the pregnancy but he is beautiful.
‘I was told Gemma was pregnant a week after the accident. That time is all a blur.
‘I didn’t tell anyone for a month because they didn’t think she would make it through.
‘It was such a shock for her when the hospital staff told her she was expecting – she had lost three years of memory. It has just been very emotional.’