After a devastating diagnosis, Lisa feared she’d never be a mum. But there was more than one surprise in store…
Noticing the familiar cramps starting to come on, I quickly went to the toilet.
‘Ugh, not again!’ I muttered.
Every time my period started, I felt sad.
My husband and I had been trying for a baby for six months.
We went to our GP, who confirmed we were healthy.
‘Just keep trying,’ he told us.
As my friends all started falling pregnant, I got more and more disheartened.
And when two years had gone by, I began to worry.
What’s wrong with my body? I wondered.
This time, we went to a fertility specialist.
Their tests were more thorough and when the results came back, the doctor gave me some gut-wrenching news.
‘You have what’s called unexplained infertility,’ he said.
My initial reaction was relief that it wasn’t anything worse. But not knowing why my body couldn’t get pregnant was frustrating.
‘You could try IUI,’ said the doctor.
‘OK,’ I replied.
To help stimulate my ovaries ready for the procedure, I was put on fertility drugs.
When my husband’s sperm was injected into my uterus, I felt sure it would work.
But it didn’t, and when we did another round, that failed too.
My husband and I had been gradually drifting apart, and this was the final nail in the coffin.
We realised we weren’t right for each other, and we split.
Now I was single at 35 years old.
Am I too old to start over again? I worried.
Work was keeping me busy, but I logged on to dating sites now and again.
A year later, I got talking to Rob, 35.
When we met up we clicked instantly.
A few months later, we were becoming serious and got chatting about kids.
When Rob said he wanted children, I was up-front.
‘I’ve been diagnosed with unexplained infertility,’ I said.
‘That’s OK, it doesn’t change how I feel about you,’ he replied.
We became engaged three months later and excitedly started trying for a baby.
Then we soon got our own place together.
A year went by with no luck, so we went to my fertility specialist.
But tests confirmed we were both healthy and because of my diagnosis, there was no cure or fix.
IVF was our only other option.
‘I don’t want to take all those hormones,’ I told Rob.
‘I’ll go with whatever you want to do,’ he replied.
But realising it was our only chance, I came around.
Because I was 37, I wanted to start as soon as possible, so we went private.
It would cost £4,000 a pop and with both our savings combined, we could only afford two rounds.
The doctor warned us the first round often didn’t work – and it didn’t.
But after the second one, we got the astonishing news that I was pregnant.
We were ecstatic, but it all came crashing down at the first scan.
‘I’m sorry, there’s no heartbeat,’ said the sonographer.
I was upset, but it gave me hope that I could fall pregnant again.
We forked out for a third round, but it failed.
Exhausted by everything, I decided to take a break.
We’d been putting off our wedding because of it all, so we finally got married and went on our honeymoon.
When we got back, I felt relaxed and ready for a fourth round.
‘It probably won’t work but it’s worth a try,’ I told Rob.
This time, when we found out it hadn’t taken, I hit rock-bottom.
I was about to turn 40 and still didn’t have the baby I’d always wanted.
Not only was I physically and mentally drained, but we’d spent £20,000 — all for nothing.
I had a breakdown and took time off work, and as a way of coping, I turned to self-help books.
'You have unexplained infertility'
They made me realise that although I’d been eating healthily and taking the fertility drugs, deep down I’d given up hope.
I’d gone into each round of IVF assuming it wouldn’t work.
I started learning how to adopt a more positive mindset, and a few months later I had some of my mojo back.
So when Rob’s mum offered to pay for another round of IVF, I agreed.
‘This is the last one though,’ I told Rob, who was supportive.
This time, doctors did more tests on me.
Because the results showed minor abnormalities, they tweaked my IVF treatment.
Two embryos were fertilised and, to give us the best chance, they were both implanted in me.
When I took a pregnancy test two weeks later, I quickly gave it to Rob.
‘I can’t look,’ I said.
A minute later, his eyebrows shot up.
‘Pregnant!’ he shrieked.
‘Oh my God,’ I replied.
I was happy, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up too soon.
At the six-week scan, I watched nervously as the sonographer ran the doppler over my belly.
‘Both embryos have taken — you’re having twins,’ she said.
Rob and I smiled at each other.
‘Hold on…’ she added, peering at the screen. ‘There’s three in there!’
This time, Rob and I laughed nervously.
Surely that can’t be right? I thought.
But when she showed us the three blobs on the screen, we were stunned into silence.
She explained one of the embryos had split into two, which meant two of the triplets would be identical.
We were in shock and the news took days to sink in.
I’d gone from being infertile to having not one, but three babies on the way!
It was unbelievable but we were over the moon.
Being pregnant was surreal and I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.
Finally, I’m going to be a mum, I thought happily.
Every day, I was in awe of my body and its ability to create three little beings.
Because I was high-risk, I had to have a scan every two weeks.
At 16 weeks along, we found out we were having twin boys and a girl.
We bought a bigger car, countless baby bottles and a giant three-seater pushchair.
It was overwhelming, but exciting nonetheless.
Seeing the three empty cots in the nursery room ready for our arrivals made everything feel all the more real.
At 35 weeks, we went to the hospital for my scheduled Caesarean.
By then, I was astounded at how huge and heavy my bump was.
‘I can’t wait to meet them,’ I said to Rob.
‘Me too,’ he smiled.
Doctors and nurses surrounded me and, next thing I knew, our daughter was being placed on my chest, quickly followed by our sons.
‘I can’t believe it!’ I said, looking down at their little faces.
Rob had a quick cuddle before the boys were whisked away to be incubated.
They each only weighed three pounds and needed some support.
Our girl was four pounds, so she was allowed to stay in a cot by my bed.
'There's three in there!'
‘They’re all healthy,’ the doctor reassured me.
A week later we were allowed to take our babies home.
Adjusting to a life with three newborns was even harder than I’d imagined.
We hired a night nanny to pop in twice a week for the first six weeks.
When Rob went back to work, I was overwhelmed.
Friends and family visited, but the day-to-day of looking after three babies was stressful and tiring.
Every day, I had to make up 18 bottles of milk!
But throughout the tough times, I felt unbelievably blessed.
Now, the triplets are 11, and being their mum has been an incredible journey.
My experience inspired me to become a fertility coach.
I wrote a book to help others going through the mental struggles of infertility, and I dedicated it to my kids.
Lots of women have told me how much my book has helped them to feel less alone, which is lovely.
If there’s one thing I’ve learnt throughout my rollercoaster journey with infertility, it’s to never give up hope.
Lisa Ashworth, 52, Surrey