Three reasons to smile
Our 200 millionto-one girls arrived when we needed them most
Putting the first test aside, I did another – watched, waited...
But there it was again! Positive.
‘Aaron!’ I cried. ‘We’re having a baby!’ My boyfriend’s face lit up. ‘That’s fantastic,’ he grinned. It was November 2016, we’d been together four years and were buying our first house.
We’d bought a new-build next door to my mum Julie, 57. ‘I can’t wait to tell her,’ I said. Our baby news was a ray of happiness in what’d been a horrible year.
My dad Kevin had a heart transplant at the beginning of 2016. It’d gone well and tests showed no signs of rejection.
Dad was back home with Mum and we’d even booked a family holiday to celebrate.
But, suddenly, Dad got a lung infection, then the flu.
That May, he’d passed away, aged 56. We were distraught. Especially Mum – they’d been married for 38 years.
But now our baby news gave us all something to look forward to.
That December, I had cramping and a small bleed.
Just in case, my doctor sent me for an early scan at the Royal Gwent Hospital.
I was nervous as the sonographer scanned my tummy, frowning.
‘Do you have twins in your family?’ she asked.
Aaron nodded – his brothers are twins.
‘Well, I can see two heartbeats,’ the sonographer smiled. I stared at Aaron, speechless. Then peering at the screen, the sonographer frowned again. ‘Is everything OK?’ I fretted. ‘Do you see that, in the far right?’ she said, pointing to a fuzzy, black image. I could – just! ‘There aren’t two heartbeats – there are three!’ she said. Triplets?!
If we thought we were lost for words before...
Aaron and I stared at each other, dumbfounded.
‘They’re identical, too,’ the sonographer told us.
She explained the odds of conceiving identical triplets without fertility drugs was one in 200 million.
Aaron and I both left the hospital in stunned silence.
We’d joked about having twins. But triplets?! How would we cope? ‘I need to see Mum,’ I said. We drove there, still saying nothing. And when I saw Mum, I burst into tears.
I felt overwhelmed, shocked – and terrified.
But, when I broke the news, Mum was thrilled.
‘Don’t cry,’ she soothed. ‘This is amazing!’
As she put her arms around me, promised to help, I felt better.
‘It’s a good job we’ll be living next door,’ I said.
I had a feeling we’d need a hand!
After that, it still felt surreal but we started to get excited.
As I had a multiple pregnancy, I’d be closely monitored.
‘You’re having three babies,’ Mum would remind me, excitedly, every day.
Yet, as we were preparing for our new arrivals, more tragedy struck...
Mum’s dad – my grandad
John – had a fall before Christmas. Scans showed he had an aggressive brain tumour and, in January 2017, he passed away in hospital.
We all rallied round Mum and my grandma Rosemary, but the loss took its toll on Grandma. She came down with a chest infection, couldn’t fight it off.
Two weeks after losing Grandad, she died, too. Heartbreaking.
We’d lost so much in just eight months.
But focusing on the triplets helped us through our grief.
One tiny egg had given us three incredible miracles. We couldn’t wait to meet them.
I had weekly scans and, at 15 weeks, we found out we were expecting identical girls.
My bump swamped my size-6 frame and my morning sickness was terrible. ‘It’s 24/7 sickness,’ I groaned. But family and friends
We’d lost so much – focusing on this helped us through
flooded us with gifts and we soon had three of everything.
And three cots, side by side in the white-painted nursery.
As a triplet pregnancy is high risk, I was booked for a Caesarean at 32 weeks, on 19 May last year.
Almost on the first anniversary of Dad’s death.
By then, I could barely breathe or sleep, my bump was so huge.
Mum sat with Aaron’s family in the waiting room, while he was by my side as I was wheeled to theatre.
First Jorgie arrived, weighing 2lb 14oz, then Belle at 3lb 2oz, and finally Olivia, 3lb 2oz.
And all within a minute of each other – 10.36, 10.37 and 10.38am.
Because they were so tiny, I only got a glimpse before they were whisked to Special Care.
Visiting them that evening was emotional. They were tiny, in incubators, covered in wires.
‘But they’re doing well,’ the doctor assured us.
Three days later, Aaron and I held our girls for the first time. ‘We love you so much,’ I cooed. They were breathing by themselves, but we had to wait for them to get bigger.
By the end of June, all our girls were home. It was pure bliss just watching them.
Although it was a constant cycle of bottles, nappies and washing, we loved every minute.
Plus Mum was always round, fussing over them all – as well as my brother Michael, 27, who lives with Mum.
Because the girls, now 1, are identical, we have colour-coded nail varnish on their big toes.
Jorgie has purple, Belle has pink and Olivia has yellow.
And they get so much attention when we’re out.
After a tough year for our family, they’ve brought happiness back into our lives. Our 200 million-to-one girls. Triple the trouble – but definitely triple the fun!