Charliann Broadhurst, 28, got a very big surprise.
Here, she tells the story in her own words.
Pulling the vacuum over the living room floor for the third time that day, I let out a sigh.
My three girls had been behaving like whirlwinds all morning, and the house was an absolute mess.
My toddler, Siena, had her jam-covered fingers on my sofa. My elder two, Cassi-Lee and Caira-Jae, had scattered Lego all over the carpet.
I loved my girls to bits, but sometimes they tested my patience.
What I wouldn’t give to be on a beach right now, I thought, remembering the carefree holidays my boyfriend, Ryan, and I used to enjoy together.
We’d met at school and loved being parents.
‘Three’s enough though,’ I told my best pal Jess.
‘You two only have to look at each other to get pregnant,’ she laughed.
She had a point.
Ryan and I seemed to be very fertile, so I’d asked my GP if I could be sterilised, but they’d said at 27 I was too young.
Now, I’d made up my mind though. No more kids.
Juggling bathtime, dinner, homework and bedtime left me frazzled.
Trying to keep on top of the housework was taking its toll too.
In time, Ryan and I started bickering.
‘You’re like my fourth child,’ I snapped one day, as he played computer games while I tried to tidy the house, entertain the kids and plan dinner.
He was a great dad to our girls, but I felt like we were growing apart.
One night, we had a fight over something silly.
‘You obviously don’t want me here,’ Ryan said.
‘Well, why don’t you go then?’ I raged.
I didn’t mean it. It was just said in the heat of the moment, but the next day we split.
‘I’m not sure what’s happening,’ I told my mum, Viv, as she hugged me.
‘It’ll work itself out,’ she soothed.
After that, Ryan came around once a week to see the girls. We kept it civil, and, rather than moping, I realised I was actually enjoying the time apart.
One night, I arranged to go out with friends and Ryan said he’d come over to sit with the kids.
I slipped into a little black dress, and when Ryan knocked, I opened the door.
As he stood there, I noticed him looking down at my legs. Then his eyes travelled up, taking in my hair and make-up.
‘What?’ I said, grinning.
But he just mumbled something and sat down in front of the TV.
The night was a blast and I danced until midnight.
Back home, I let myself in.
‘Ryan? Are you awake?’ I whispered, stumbling over.
‘You’re tipsy,’ he smiled.
‘I am not,’ I giggled.
Collapsing next to him on the sofa, I pulled off my heels.
‘Thanks for looking after the girls,’ I said.
Just then, our eyes met.
Suddenly, I was leaning towards him and we kissed.
Before I knew it, we were making love, just like in the good old days.
Afterwards, Ryan put his arms around me.
It felt so good…
The next morning, we said goodbye and I tried to put it out of my mind.
It shouldn’t have happened.
But weeks passed and I started to feel really ill.
My period was messed up too, but I put it down to having the flu.
‘We’ll do a pregnancy test just to rule it out,’ my doctor said.
Five minutes later, he had the result.
‘You’re pregnant,’ he said.
My mouth fell open in shock – the night on the sofa!
I was sent straight to hospital for a scan.
When the sonographer told me she could see two babies, I nearly passed out.
‘Hang on, wait, I think there’s another,’
she said.
‘Oh Lord,’ I muttered.
I was having triplets!
On the way home, I called Ryan.
‘Remember that night when you stayed over?’ I stuttered.
‘Yeah…’ he said.
Then it suddenly dawned on him.
‘You’re pregnant?’
‘Yes,’ I squeaked, ‘but there are three of them!’
That night, we tried to get our heads around what we had done.
It was a shock, but we were excited too.
Even Ryan soon got used to the idea of becoming a dad of six overnight!
We decided to get back together, and the girls were thrilled when we told them.
At one scan, we discovered I was carrying identical twin boys and a little girl.
Then, in May 2019, at 33 weeks, I was told the babies had stopped growing and
I needed to have an emergency caesarean.
As Ryan held my hand, our triplets were brought into the world.
Our little girl Ryana was born first, Carter was second and Cayon last.
One by one, they were each laid onto me.
‘They’re gorgeous,’ I whispered.
All so tiny, they were kept in incubators.
But they were little fighters, and a week later they were discharged.
Back home, my new life was organised with military precision.
0I would breastfeed for eight hours every day.
Now, the triplets are almost one.
Most days, I’ve already done two loads of washing by 5am.
Getting the older kids – now aged eight, seven and five – off to school is a task in itself.
Then the rest of the day is spent looking after the triplets, running errands and cleaning.
Bathtime and bedtime is like being in a drill hall!
Ryan and I work together as a team.
And now, I never moan – being a mum to triplets is a dream come true.
1Having my family back together is the icing on the cake. ●
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