I can remember when there were only two of us, just me and my younger sister Kirsty.
We lived in Tenterfield, in a large home just below the local hospital.
I was six years old when my mother became pregnant with what was then her third child. However, when she returned from the hospital, she came home with twins, Berkeley and Prue.
Six months later, my mother became pregnant again, and seeing as my mum and dad had always wanted five children, this seemed perfect. But things didn’t go according to plan.
On December 31, 1967 mum gave birth to not three, not four, but five babies — Annabel, Richard, Faith, Caroline and Geoffrey. They were Australia’s first naturally conceived quintuplets.
The quins were born six weeks prematurely, so were in humidicribs for the first few weeks of their lives. I met my new brothers and sisters the day after they were born at the Royal Brisbane and Women’s Hospital.
As a seven-year-old looking through the window at five humidicribs in a row on the premmie ward, I didn’t fully comprehend how our family dynamics would change. Our family had doubled instantly!
Sadly, Geoffrey died four days later, however we have always referred to them as the quins.
Six of Leith Foster's seven siblings. Source: Supplied
Mum and Dad brought the new additions of our family home to join their seven and five-year-old sisters and thirteen-month-old twins. I think a lot of parents would find this quite daunting, but Mum and Dad seemed to cope well with this instant family expansion. In addition to bringing four new babies home, two nurses also came to live with us.
Literally overnight, my life changed quite a bit. It became a lot busier and a lot noisier. Not long after the quins came home, Kirsty, who had cerebral palsy and an intellectual disability, went to Armidale to live at Rusden House. She was a lovely little girl and I missed her a lot. She passed away in 1970, and I still miss her today.
As anyone can imagine, there was a lot to do at mealtimes, and all hands were on deck to feed the hungry hoards. My father was a solicitor with a busy practice, but even so, he was always home at a reasonable hour to help Mum and the nurses. I loved to help at meal and bath times; the quins sat in wheelie chairs for their meals, which could be quite chaotic. If they decided they weren’t hungry, the four of them would take off, up and down the veranda at full speed, all thought of food forgotten.
Often when washing everyone’s hair, there was more water on the floor than in the bath and the noise from the bathroom was deafening. The laundry was another busy room — the washing machine and dryer were on the go 24/7 thanks to all those nappies.
One of the quins, Geoffrey died four days after birth. Source: Supplied
My father wanted us to grow up without too much media limelight. I, on the other hand, had other ideas.
Skennars Bus Coaches changed their route to drive past our home. I loved waiting for the bus so that I could wave to the driver and passengers on their way past, and seeing my photo in magazines and newspapers was very exciting.
At 13, I went to boarding school in Brisbane, and at the annual school open day, Mum and Dad would visit with the twins and quins in tow. At that age I was so embarrassed, but looking back, I had a great childhood. I loved having a lot of brothers and sisters — there was never a dull moment.
I now have two children of my own, and I’m really not sure how I would have coped having any more. It’s made me appreciate what my parents did for us.
Growing up in a small country town was great, we were like any other family.
Now, all in our 50s with children of our own, and dispersed across regional NSW and Brisbane, we try to get together when we can — and as you can imagine, it’s even noisier!
