Expecting identical triplets, Wendy Varley prepared herself for a caesarean that didn't happen after all

Apart from severe sickness until 20 weeks, I had a remarkably healthy triplet pregnancy. I'd heard horror stories about needing full-time bed rest, early admission to hospital, dangerously premature deliveries and potential health problems.

It's show time
At 34 weeks I was still at home, mobile (though I looked like I was incubating an elephant) and feeling fine. I'd been told to come to hospital as soon as I felt any twinges. In the early hours of Saturday 6th December, I had a show when I went to the loo and mild contractions set in soon afterwards.

I didn't panic, but woke my husband Ian at around 6am. We drove to Guys Hospital in London, where I was examined and found to be 4cm dilated. I had three monitors strapped to my tummy to pick up the three heartbeats, and was expecting to be prepped for a section. I felt acutely nervous and told Ian I didn't think I was ready, but, as he rightly said, we never would feel ready for triplets.

On the move again
I was just settling in, when the registrar told me that the babies would need special care in incubators. As the special care baby unit at Guy's didn't have three free incubators, I would have to be transferred to a different hospital to give birth. Scary information when you're in labour. He put me on a drip to stop the contractions and buy time, and I could hear him calling a succession of different hospitals.

It was a long wait before the Royal London accepted us, and I was whisked across London with the siren going. I felt terrified at the idea of going straight into theatre in a completely strange hospital. But by the time I arrived the contractions had stopped and I had time to adjust.

As soon as I'd settled on the ward, the consultant came to see me and asked if I wanted to have the babies normally. 'What? Can I?' I asked, incredulous. I was assured that I could try for a vaginal birth if I liked. I jumped at the chance, but said I'd want an epidural, so that if I did end up with an emergency section I'd be able to stay awake.

First things first
The drip to stall contractions was removed and I waited for labour to restart - for two whole days. Awake at 4am on Monday morning, I suddenly felt a 'clunk' in my pelvis and a gush of water. Olivia's head had engaged and started things off with a vengeance. Within minutes, I'd been moved to the labour room and was appalled to see a scrum of doctors, nurses, medical students, paediatricians and goodness knows who else all fighting for a glimpse of my nether regions. I began to feel like I was hosting the World Cup.

Then the consultant arrived and told everyone to be quiet and respect the occasion. He was a wonderfully reassuring man, who'd delivered triplets on several occasions and had picked up fantastic obstetric skills in his long career. He gave me a pep talk, telling me I was young (I was 26) and fit, and there was no reason I couldn't deliver my babies myself. His confidence in me was inspiring.

The epidural was in place just as the pains began to intensify. I had a monitor by my pillow so I could see when I was getting a contraction, and I pushed hard whenever it showed a peak. Our first daughter emerged head first at 7.15am, gave a little cough and looked surprised. She came to me for a quick cuddle before being whisked away to be checked over in Special Care.

Two safe arrivals
I wept with relief at the safe arrival of our little girl, and Ian and I quickly referred to our long list of names (for any combination of sexes) and decided she was Olivia. Then I remembered I had two more babies waiting, each in their own sac of waters (each was monitored continuously).

The second baby was head down, but lying in a slightly twisted position. As well as timely pushing on my part, it took some external manipulation and forceps in the closing stages to deliver her (the epidural was working fine and I felt no pain). Alexandra was born at 9am.

Lost in space
By this time there was a lot of space in the uterus and the third baby was drifting somewhere up near my ribcage in a breech position. I was really glad I'd had the epidural, because the doctor had to reach right into my uterus to grab her foot (still inside the sac of waters). Someone asked me if I was comfortable and I snorted and said, 'About as comfortable as you'd expect with his hand where it is now.'

He gently drew her down and out, only breaking the waters at the last minute to give her as much protection as possible. Rebecca, like her sisters, had the briefest of introductions to me before being whisked to Special Care.

I thought it was all over
I still had to deliver the placentas (the girls are all identical, but two shared a placenta and one was separate) and be stitched up (I'd had an episiotomy to make sure the girls had as gentle an exit as possible).

I was left to recover and then Ian returned with Polaroid photos of the girls to show me, as it would be a couple of hours before I could visit them in the SCBU. They were perfect, beautiful and each weighed exactly 4.5lbs - good weights for their gestation.

They spent a few days in special care, Alex and Becky initially needing a little extra oxygen, but were essentially healthy (as was I) and we were all home within a fortnight for the most hectic Christmas ever.

Privileged and proud
People who've heard about the girls' delivery assume it was horrendous. But with the epidural to take away most of the pain, it was a fantastic experience, and I felt privileged to have been given the chance to have them in the normal way.

I felt immense pride afterwards and was on a high that helped me cope throughout those intense early weeks. It's a shame that few obstetricians and midwives witness such special deliveries. If they did, they might gain the confidence and experience to handle them vaginally, and the caesarean rate for multiple pregnancies might drop.