The image flickered on the screen and I gasped as I noticed something.
Or rather I noticed two things – two little heartbeats.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, grabbing my husband Ricky’s hand tightly.
“I know,” he said, smiling. “Two’s twice as special as one.”
Just then, the sonographer interrupted us.
“Er, actually it’s not two,” she said, grinning. I looked at her, confused.
“There are three babies in there. You’re having triplets!”
I burst into tears while Ricky burst out laughing.
It had been a crazy six months for us.
Ricky and I met on Tinder and after a whirlwind romance wound up marrying in secret on the Cook Islands.
I’d been told that I couldn’t conceive naturally so we went on an IVF waiting list.
In the meantime, a doctor had given me a fertility drug to try. Nobody thought it would work, but it had: almost too well!
“How are we going to cope with triplets?” I said to Ricky when I finally stopped crying.
We didn’t really know the answer until I gave birth at 33 weeks after an emergency C-section.
Three tiny but healthy babies were placed in my arms; two identical boys who we named Zander and Xavier, and a girl, Harper.
“How are we going to cope with triplets?” I said to Ricky when I finally stopped crying.
Three weeks later we took them home.
It was a juggle but Ricky and I enjoyed being parents and we soon got into the swing of things.
They were four months old and I was giving Xavier a bath when I noticed he had some spots under his arm.
They looked red and itchy.
A few days later they had spread to his tummy.
Our doctor first thought it was scabies, a skin condition where tiny mites burrow into the skin. Then he told us it could be eczema, but I wasn’t so sure.
Eventually, I convinced a paediatrician to do a biopsy.
Two weeks later, the receptionist called and said the results had found a malignancy.
“Malignancy?”
I said, stunned.
It had been the last thing I was expecting.
“It had been the last thing I was expecting.”
Xavier had a rare disease called Langerhans cell histiocytosis (LCH), which is considered a type of cancer.
It can appear on the skin as well as internally, where it could also spread to the organs and be fatal.
I clung to Xavier and wept, terrified of losing him.
Very little was known about the disease, but one thing the doctors were certain of was that it wasn’t hereditary.
“You mean my other babies won’t get it?” I asked, relief washing over me.
It was a small glimmer of hope amongst a mountain of bad news.
Luckily, his organs were unaffected, but a few weeks later, I noticed Zander had a couple of mozzie bites on his arm that weren’t going away.
When the rash started to spread, I insisted on another biopsy and, to my horror, Zander had the disease, too.
The doctors were dumbfounded.
We were told it was a fluke but Ricky and I joined a support group online and I found another family in Australia who had twins with LCH.
“The doctors are wrong,” I raged to Ricky. “There’s a genetic link.”
“The doctors are wrong,” I raged to Ricky. “There’s a genetic link.”
I wanted Harper tested, too, but because she had no symptoms they couldn’t take a biopsy.
A few months later though, her eye swelled up like a golf ball.
“It’s LCH; I know it is,” I said.
With all three babies affected, we were now officially the rarest case of it in the world. And the medical experts had to rethink their ideas – clearly LCH must have some sort of genetic link.
She spent five days in hospital on an IV drip of antibiotics. The swelling went down but a few days later, the telltale rash appeared.
A biopsy revealed what we already knew.
Samples from the triplets plus mine and Ricky’s DNA were sent off to America and Sweden and the race is on to find the link.
The kids are now a year old and their little personalities are shining through.
Zander is sensitive but bossy; Xavier is our wild child, shy at first then quick to throw a tantrum, while Harper is our social butterfly.
Xavier’s skin has improved, but Harper scratches herself raw. Often I pick her up in the morning and her sheets and pyjamas are soaked in blood.
She and Zander are taking a form of oral chemotherapy and we hope their skin will clear soon.
Thankfully, none of them have had the disease spread to their organs, but I’m terrified it might happen one day.
If I hadn’t insisted on having the biopsies, I dread to think what would have happened.
It makes me wonder how many other kids out there are being misdiagnosed with eczema when they could actually have LCH.
If something doesn’t feel right, push harder for answers. Your instincts matter.
