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'My Triplets Were Killing Each Other': Womb of War!

Posted on: Sunday, 12 June 2005, 09:00 CDT

"I screwed up my eyes, peered closely at the monitor. It was still no use. 'I can't see a baby shape,' I frowned.

'Wait,' the doctor gasped. 'It's twins... no... hang on... it's triplets!'

I nearly slipped off the hospital bed. No wonder I couldn't make out a single baby shape - there were three in there!

It was February 2003. I was 28 and at my 16-week scan at St Michael's Hospital, Bristol with my husband John, 33, a project manager.

We'd been delighted by the prospect of having one healthy baby. But triplets!

I was still in shock when we left the hospital. John rang his mum, Mary, and we went round to my parents'.'I don't believe it,' said Mum, Geraldine, 59.

'I know. That'll be three cots, three prams, three sets of baby- gros,' I said, shaking my head in amazement. 'How will we manage?'

'It's a blessing,' said John.

The next day, John and I returned to hospital and heard three tiny heartbeats pounding in unison on the scan. But the consultant looked concerned.

'There's a problem,' he said slowly. 'One of the triplets is so tiny it's unlikely to survive.'

As my jaw fell open in horror, the consultant explained how one of them was taking nutrients from the placenta, depriving the smaller triplet.

In disbelief I realised one of my babies was almost half the size of the other two.

'Isn't there anything you can do?' I gasped.

'Even if the smallest baby survives, there's a chance it will have severe disabilities,' the consultant said softly. 'If it dies in the womb it could damage or kill the others. You may wish to consider terminating that baby.'

Sick fear gnawed my stomach - and there was more. 'A termination might cause you to miscarry the other two babies,' continued the consultant.

My eyes swung from the screen to John's face. He looked terrified too, but as our eyes met I knew he was thinking the same thing. No way were we giving up any of our babies.

'If they all want to live, they'll live,' I said.

The doctor said my tiniest triplet needed to reach a pound in weight. All the babies needed to stay in the womb for 28 weeks.

'We'll get through this,' John said, hugging me as we left. I gave up my job as a nursery nurse, staying in bed late to get rest and had fortnightly scans.

We lived on a knife-edge. I thought of my babies fighting for survival and felt helpless. The idea of getting three sets of baby clothes only to lose one baby - or maybe all three - was too horrific to take in.

At the end of April, at my 25-week scan, we knew the triplets were all girls. We named the bigger two Lily and Imogen and chose Daisy for our tiniest.

'She's just like a tiny flower trying to grow,' I told John.

New scans showed our girls were growing, although Daisy lagged behind.

We made it past the 28-week danger zone, but I couldn't relax until my babies were born safe and well.

At 30 weeks, Daisy still weighed under one pound. And at my 32- week scan, the doctor's frown scared me.

'I'm worried the smallest triplet has stopped growing. We need to perform an emergency Caesarean soon,' he said. But miraculously, on June 15, days before the scheduled date, my waters broke naturally.

Praying Daisy would hold on, John rushed me to St Michael's Hospital.

'You've come this far, my darlings, please hold on,' I prayed, clutching John's hand as the staff wheeled me into theatre.

Lily came first, weighing 3lb 3oz - she was perfect.

A minute later, a shrill cry, like a kitten's miaow, pierced the air.

'It's the little one,' shouted one of the doctors. 'She's alive!'

My little Daisy - alive!

The nurse brought over a tiny red bundle of arms and legs and settled her in the crook of my arm. I stared down through misty eyes at my brave Daisy. She was the size of John's hand and weighed just 1lb 5oz.

Two minutes later, Imogen arrived, weighing 2lb 4oz.

I gazed in wonder at the three perfect babies nestled in my arms - they were like porcelain dolls. Except Daisy was half the size of her sisters.

Then the nurse prised them from me and whisked them to intensive care. Lily and Imogen were placed on ventilators for 24 hours to help their breathing.

I sat beside the three tiny incubators, listening as the doctor explained that Daisy's eyesight was at risk. 'Because she's so tiny the blood vessels in her eyes haven't developed properly.'

But Daisy refused to give up and fought on for every tiny breath. I kept a vigil by my babies' cots and watched as Daisy battled for life. Her muscles were so tiny she had to have physio on her legs and hips to strengthen them.

After three weeks, she had a blood transfusion. I prayed her little body would stand it. And still she fought on.

Lily and Imogen flourished and in the middle of July we took them home. I felt delighted to have my beautiful daughters home, but sad that Daisy was still in hospital.

Every day I expressed milk and fed Lily and Imogen, then left them with my mum and dad, Peter, 63, to race up to the hospital. Juggling it all was exhausting.

I kept on, though, and amazingly Daisy put on weight.

After nine weeks, in mid August, she reached 3lb 6oz and the doctors said she was fit enough to go home.

As I sat on our settee, cradling my babies, I stared at their matching brown eyes and cried. To have all my daughters together meant the world.

Daisy continued to have physio on her little arms and legs for a few more months to ensure she didn't fall behind in development. Even though Daisy was little and her eyesight was poor, she was perfect in every other way.

In a few days Imogen, Lily and little Daisy will celebrate their second birthday. It fills our hearts with joy that all three have reached this point.

These days, brave Daisy weighs 13lb and is fast catching up with her sisters, who are both 19lb. For the first seven months, Daisy ate smaller- sized meals than her sisters, but she now has an appetite to rival them both.

And last November, she had laser treatment to prevent her from losing her sight.

Being small doesn't stop our Daisy, in fact it seems to spur her on. She's always toddling after Imogen and Lily and they love her to bits.

John and I were left speechless a few months ago when Daisy's lips puckered up and she said: 'Daddy.' Astonishingly, she was the first of our girls to speak.

I can see why Daisy survived against the odds. She's feisty and strong- willed - a real fighter.

You know what they say: the best things come in small packages!"

Source: People, The; London

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