Over the years Ive delivered roughly twelve thousand babies in our little remote northern maternity unit. Yet there are a few cases that have stuck in my mind like a scar, and one of them is the only set of triplets Ive ever seen thats the story Im about to tell.
It began with a young couple expecting their first child. The father, Tom, had been posted to our town from the regional airfield where he worked as a aircraft technician. They lived in a cramped oneroom flat in the hostel attached to the hospital. The mother, Ellie, was a lively, strikingly redhaired Londoner a beauty so vivid I could hardly call her merely a woman.
Tom came from a small village in the Cotswolds. He was stocky, calm and a touch laidback. Back in those bright, uncomplicated days of postwar Britain, such a mix of backgrounds was quite ordinary. Early on the scan revealed they were expecting twins.
Because of that, Ellie planned to travel to London to give birth with her mother. But labour started early at thirtytwo weeks. By the time I was on duty, Vicky was rushed into our ward. The main block of the hospital was closed for cleaning, so we were operating out of the makeshift gynecology annex.
The oncall obstetrician, Dr. Diana Clarke, was an experienced and steady hand. On examining Ellie, she sensed the babies werent positioned correctly. That meant a natural delivery would be hazardous, so she opted for a Caesarean section. An Xray was taken to confirm the layout.
The images showed two little figures: one head down, the other breech. With the situation clear, we moved to theatre.
The first baby emerged a boy, 1.7kg. While I and the nurse tended to him, the team pulled the second boy, 1.6kg. No sooner had we secured him than Dr. Clarke shouted, Get the third one!
There was no time for jokes; the two boys were already tiny and fragile. I think I muttered a few sharp words at the staff, but a loud cry stopped me in my tracks. Turning, I saw a third infant a little girl, 1.4kg, bundled in the womb. I was stunned; she hadnt shown up on the scan or the Xray.
It turned out the two boys lay sidebyside along the length of the uterus, with the little girl tucked perpendicularly beneath them, hidden from view. Those tiny gentlemen had shielded their sister from prying eyes. If Dr. Clarke hadnt insisted on the operation, the babies might not have survived.
We handed the newborn girl to the nurse and, together, tended to all three. Our unit wasnt set up for such a sudden influx; we had only one incubator for preterm infants. We placed the triplets side by side in that single cradle they fit.
I stayed by the babies all night, worried as a parent would be. By morning their conditions had steadied, and the wards bell rang. I found myself at the doorway as a handsome pilot in his flight suit strode in.
Whos my child? he asked, breathless.
Congratulations, I replied after a pause, youve got two sons and a daughter.
It took a while for the news to sink in. He repeated under his breath, Two sons and a daughter two sons, I get that a daughter? No three?
Yes exactly, I said as clearly as I could.
He slipped down the wall, we seated him, offered a glass of water. You could see his bewilderment a man newly assigned, still settling into a tiny rented room, barely earning enough to get by, and suddenly triplets! The babies stayed in the ward long enough to gain weight and health.
I loved visiting their cot, marveling at the miracle of nature. Though there were three of them, they were always clean, fed, and tended to. Their mother, ever meticulous, wore a constant, bright smile. It was the first set of triplets our little town had ever seen, and they were blessed indeed.
The hospital board promptly arranged a threebed flat in a new housing estate for the family, fully equipped. They even assigned a private health visitor for the first few months. But the real hero was the mother a stunningly beautiful young woman who raised her children from the very start.
Ten years later I found myself in the waiting area of the same hospital. Vicky walked in with her three kids, here to visit their father. Two darkhaired boys, the spitting image of their dad, followed. Then, bounding ahead, a brightredhaired, sprightly girl an unmistakable copy of her mother.
Seeing that happy family filled me with joy. I swear I could still feel the warmth of those tiny hearts, and I could still hear their little beats echoing in my mind.
