July 12, 2023
Ive spent my career cradling almost twelvethousand newborns in the little northern maternity unit of AshbyontheHill, and yet a handful of cases still cling to my memory like stubborn stains. One of those, my only set of triplets, deserves a proper telling.
It began when a young couple arrived in our postwar town after being allocated a posting. The husband, Tom Whitaker, was an aircraft mechanic stationed at the modest airfield outside the village; the wife, Rosie Hart, was a vivacious redhaired girl from London, brighteyed and strikingly beautifulhardly the sort of woman one would simply label a lady.
Tom, originally from Uzbekistan, had settled here years ago. He was broadshouldered, calm, with a lazy smile that made you think hed never hurry. In those halcyon days of the old welfare state, such a mixed background was hardly a curiosity. Early on they learned they were expecting twins.
Rosie planned to travel to London to give birth with her mother, but the labour broke earlyjust 32 weeks. On the night that Vicky, the midwife, was on duty, the main block was closed for deep cleaning, so we were temporarily operating out of the gynecology annex. The oncall obstetrician, DrDiane Clarke, a seasoned and competent practitioner, examined Rosie and immediately suspected the babies were malpositioned.
Natural delivery would have been extremely risky, so we decided on a Caesarean. An Xray confirmed the odd arrangement: one baby headfirst, the other breech. With the picture clear, we moved to theatre.
The first boy emerged, a tiny 1.7kg bundle. While I and a nurse tended to him, the team extracted the second, a 1.6kg lad. Just as we thought we were done, a voice from behind shouted, Get the third one! My humour had evaporatedboth boys were already fragile.
I may have muttered a sharp remark at the obstetric team, but a second, louder cry made me freeze. There, in the surgical field, lay a third infanta little girl, 1.4kg, swaddled as if she were a secret. I was stunned. How could she have been invisible on the scan? It turned out the two boys were lying sidebyside along the uterus, while their sister was tucked perpendicularly beneath them, hidden from view.
Those tiny gentlemen had shielded their sister from prying eyes. If DrClarke hadnt insisted on the operation, the trio likely would not have survived. We placed the newborns together on the single incubator we had for preterm babies; miraculously, they all fit.
I never left their side that night, my heart thudding with every breath they took. By morning their condition had steadied. The wards bell rang, and a handsome officer in RAF uniform stepped in.
Whos the father of these? he asked, eyes widening.
Congratulations, I replied slowly, youve got two sons and a daughter. It took him a moment to piece it together; his voice trembled as he repeated, Two sons a daughter three children?
We helped him to a chair, offered a glass of water, and listened as he muttered, Two sons I get it a daughter? No three? The man had been transferred here on a shortterm posting, his salary modest, his lodging cramped. And now he was a father of triplets.
The babies stayed in the ward for weeks, gaining weight and strength. I loved watching them, marveling at the miracle of life. Despite being three, they were always clean, fed, and comforted. Rosie, ever meticulous, wore a perpetual smile that lit the room. It was the first set of triplets our little town had ever seen, and they were blessed beyond measure.
The council promptly assigned the family a threebedroom flat in the newly built estate, supplied with everything they needed. An extra health visitor was allocated for the first few months. Yet the true hero was Rosie herselfso strikingly beautiful, she lifted each child onto her feet and raised them with fierce devotion.
Ten years have slipped by. Today I found myself wandering the reception area of the district hospital. Vickynow Vicky Morganentered with her children, here to visit their father. Two darkhaired boys, almost carbon copies of Tom, trailed behind, and then came a brightred, sprightly little girlan exact replica of her mother.
Seeing that family together filled me with a joy I can scarcely describe. I could still feel the warmth of those tiny hands, still hear the faint beat of their hearts echoing in my mind. Its a reminder that, no matter how many births we oversee, some stay with you forever.
