Amy took the contraceptive pill religiously, but one day she received some life-changing news that defied all odds…
Freezing up as my bestie’s toddler began to cry, I quickly handed the little’un back.
‘Here you go,’ I laughed.
‘He won’t bite,’ Cherry teased.
‘I know,’ I replied. ‘But he clearly wants his mummy.’
The truth was, I had never felt completely comfortable around kids.
I loved seeing my friends’ babies, but was always glad to hand them back.
So, when I woke up the next morning and swallowed down my contraceptive pill with a glass of water, I let out a sigh of relief.
Thank God for these, I thought.
Hearing the front door slam —which told me that my sister had just left — I tried to drag myself out of bed.
I’d been feeling wiped out recently, and this day was no exception.
Suddenly, I remembered how my mummy-friends had told me that exhaustion was a tell-tale sign of pregnancy.
Surely not, I told myself. I’ve been taking the Pill every day without fail for two years.
But deep down, I also knew that the Pill wasn’t 100 per cent effective in preventing pregnancy.
I’m coming over to yours to take a pregnancy test, I texted Cherry.
I bought one on the way, and when she opened the door I scurried upstairs to the toilet.
‘You can’t be, can you?’ she called up to me.
‘I don’t think so,’ I replied.
But looking down at the clear blue line afterwards, there was no denying it… I was pregnant.
‘How do you feel?’ Cherry asked.
‘I’m going be a mum!’ I gasped.
I don’t know who was more surprised, Cherry or me!
I’d made it clear I wasn’t looking to have a baby anytime soon, but the news sparked something inside me.
‘I’m so chuffed that you’re chuffed!’ Cherry grinned.
‘So am I,’ I replied, pulling her in for a hug.
As the days passed, my morning sickness was so bad that I constantly had my head in the toilet. It was so awful, I was sent for an early scan.
I wasn’t allowed to have anyone with me because of Covid restrictions, which made it all the more nerve-wracking.
As the sonographer took a closer look at the monitor, she turned to me with a smile.
‘There are two babies,’ she announced. ‘But I’m just going to get a colleague to double-check something.’
My stomach flipped.
What’s wrong with my babies? I thought, my mind racing.
Minutes later, the sonographer returned with a midwife, who peered at the monitor.
‘Congratulations,’ she announced, turning to me. ‘You’re having triplets.’
‘You are joking, aren’t you?’ I asked.
‘No,’ she replied. ‘You’re six weeks along.’
'I'm so chuffed that you're chuffed!'
Then the midwife explained it wasn’t guaranteed that all three would survive.
It was so much to take in, my head was spinning.
I rang Cherry as soon as I left the clinic.
‘Are you pulling my leg?’ she asked.
‘I wish I was,’ I replied.
‘I can’t believe it,’ she continued.
‘Me neither,’ I said in shock. ‘Who gets pregnant on the Pill… with triplets!’
Falling pregnant at 28 was never my plan, especially going it alone. The father was just a brief fling and wasn’t in the picture any more.
Thankfully, I had Cherry and my family to help me.
When I saw all three little blobs on the monitor at 12 weeks, I thanked my lucky stars.
From then on, I had to have a scan every two weeks because my pregnancy was classed as high risk.
‘You can have foetal reduction surgery where we remove one or two of the foetuses,’ a midwife explained at my 16-week scan.
Apparently, it would give the others a better chance of surviving.
I’d never heard of it before, and it felt like the toughest decision I’d ever have to make.
‘Are they all healthy right now?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ she explained. ‘And if you have the surgery, there’s a chance you could lose all three.’
There were risks either way, but I reasoned if they’d all got this far, they all deserved a fighting chance.
As the weeks went on, the morning sickness eased, but my whole body ached.
I’d never felt pain like it before.
But it was all worth it, especially at 18 weeks, when the sonographer finally revealed the sex of my babies.
‘All girls,’ she told me with a big smile, pointing at the screen. ‘Two of them are identical, can you see them sharing the same sac?’
‘I can’t wait to meet you Ocean, Harlow and Ivy-Gray,’ I whispered, having already chosen their names.
Then it dawned on me — in just a few months I’d have three little girls to clothe and feed.
I had no idea how to look after one baby, let alone three.
So I joined a Facebook group dedicated to mums of triplets.
You’ll be ace, one user wrote.
It’s three times the work for three times the reward, another commented.
Hearing how positive they were really helped me get through those final weeks.
And, laying out the three sets of bibs, babygros and bottles, I pictured how my life would soon be taken over by endless night-feeds and nappy changes.
One morning, I noticed spots of blood when I went to the toilet.
Trying not to panic, I picked up my phone and called the maternity ward.
‘Come in and get checked out,’ the midwife said.
There, scans showed the babies were fine.
‘Thank God,’ I muttered, breathing a huge sigh of relief.
But we weren’t out of the woods just yet.
‘The twins have stopped growing,’ the midwife continued. ‘They’re only around two and a half pounds, so we’ll have to keep an eye on them.’
Putting my hand to my bump, I could feel Ivy-Gray kicking as usual.
But the twins were growing behind the placenta, meaning there was no way I could feel their movements.
As the weeks went on, feeling Ivy-Gray kicking
was the only way I knew that she was OK.
I just had to hope that Harlow and Ocean were doing all right too.
Then, at 31 weeks, nurses told me that Ivy-Gray’s blood flow wasn’t good, and I was kept in hospital for constant monitoring.
Then, a week later, the day finally came.
‘It’s time to meet your babies,’ the midwife said.
They were still unsure about how the girls would fare outside the womb, but I prayed they’d all pull through.
And, with Cherry as my birthing partner, surgeons began the Caesarean.
Before I knew it, the twins were being placed on my chest.
‘They’re gorgeous,’ Cherry beamed.
‘Where’s Ivy-Gray?’ I asked, concerned.
‘She was born in her amniotic sac and needs oxygen,’ the midwife explained. ‘We’re putting her on a ventilator.’
Doctors had to put Ocean on a ventilator too.
Thankfully, less than 24 hours later, they were healthy enough to breathe on their own.
A week passed and I was allowed home, but the girls had to stay in intensive care to be monitored further.
Being away from them, it felt like a part of me was missing.
Finally, after 26 long days, they were discharged.
‘Welcome home, girls,’ I cooed as I stepped through the front door with my brood.
Now, they’re getting settled at home and couldn’t be happier — or healthier.
I was one of the tiny percentage of women who fall pregnant on the Pill.
But as far as I’m concerned, it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
I wouldn’t trade my little girls for the world.
That being said, I’m now waiting to have a contraceptive coil fitted.
The triplets are definitely keeping me busy enough as it is, without adding another surprise baby to the mix!
Amy Maxey, 28, Northamptonshire