Two perfect babies. But you've just paid Bernice £44,000 compensation for having them: Outrageous - or justified? Read her extraordinary story and decide

Berenice Quadling, 37, was fitted with contraceptive implant

Fell pregnant near three year expiry date of device and went to GP



Found out she was fitted with dummy 'not intent for humans'



Bore twins Lexi and Freya, now 11 months old, whom she dearly loves

Accepted £44,000 NHS compensation for their failure

Bernice Quadling can still remember her shock, disbelief and the sudden gush of tears. She rushed from the room, struggling to retrieve her composure, then sat down and attempted to digest the astonishing facts.

Bernice was pregnant with twins. She had not planned to be. On the contrary, she'd had a contraceptive implant fitted in her arm and the chances of it failing were, she had been assured, minuscule.

But it had - and she'd just been told the reason why. She'd been given a dummy implant that was intended only for training purposes. It contained no contraceptive hormones and did not work because it had never been designed to.



Yet Bernice's GP had failed to notice the unequivocal warning stamped on it. 'Do not insert into humans' had been printed on the package.



Bernice had not planned to be pregnant with twins as she'd had a contraceptive implant fitted

It was even a different colour from the real implants - yellow, instead of the usual white.

And now, because of a doctor's blunder - a few minutes of casual inattention - Bernice's careful plans had been thrown into tumult, her life changed for ever.

This week, Bernice, who had been the manager of a group of children's nurseries before her twins were born, was amply recompensed for the GP's carelessness following a year-long fight. She won £44,000 from Northamptonshire Health Trust in an out-of-court settlement.



But the award raises a fundamental moral question: should a mother who has been blessed with two perfect children - twins Lexi and Freya are now 11 months old - be entitled to compensation at all?

Should she not merely feel incredibly fortunate that while many women suffer the anguish of infertility - and others lose their lives because of hospital blunders - her life has been enriched by the accidental birth of her beautiful twins?



In an era when NHS resources are scarce and stretched, many would argue that vital funds should not be diverted from life-saving treatment for patients.



Indeed, even the judge who made the award concurred that every child is a blessing. As a result, he made no financial recompense to Bernice for the cost of raising her unexpected arrivals to adulthood - the award was solely for loss of earnings during her pregnancy, the expenses she incurred and the shock she endured.



'At the 20-week scan I saw them more distinctly. They were squished together; two little bodies'

Bernice has no compunction about accepting the money. 'I have to raise my babies for the next 20 years,' she says. 'So I'm entitled to some money from the NHS.'

Why, some may ask, if she did not want the children, did she not terminate the pregnancy? She says, as a Catholic, that this was never an option for her, as she believes in the sanctity of life from conception onwards. And there is no doubt that her babies, now they are here, are utterly cherished.

'I have two gorgeous little girls I adore,' she concedes. 'Now they're here, they're loved and accepted. I can't imagine life without them and I wouldn't have it any other way. They're amazing.



'People stop and stroke their cheeks, and the other day an elderly lady said to me, "I never managed to carry a baby to full term". In that moment, I felt selfish and ungrateful.'

There will be those, indeed, who say she is. But Bernice remains unrepentant: 'The fact is, all the plans I'd had for my life were thrown into disarray when I became pregnant with the twins and I'll need the money I've been awarded to help look after them.'

'My first reaction was disbelief, then shock, then pure anger,' she recalls. 'I threw the test against the bathroom wall. I've always planned my life, and now those plans were in complete disarray'

Bernice, 37, met the directors of Northamptonshire Healthcare NHS Foundation Trust last March, after she'd had her dummy implant removed at four months pregnant.



She had been promised an investigation and an explanation as to why the contraception had failed, and she was determined to get to the truth.

'They looked shame-faced when they told me what had happened,' she says. 'It seems the placebos were stored in the same cupboard as the real implants. These were used when staff were being trained how to insert them, and the doctor had fitted one in error.



'When the truth sunk in I was horrified. I burst into tears. I left the room, had a cup of coffee, calmed down and came back.

'I was told the doctor was fully qualified - she was an experienced GP who worked at my local surgery, a mature woman, who was apparently trained in family planning - so it was unbelievable that she should make such a fundamental mistake.

'I was told that the only action taken against her was to send her on a training course. Her error has had no impact on her life or career. Yet everything about my life has been changed completely.'

Bernice, who is independent and hard-working, had always planned her life meticulously. She already had two children, Callista, ten, and Tyra, seven, from her eight-year marriage to her first husband, with whom she had lived for 12 years.

'They're gorgeous little ladies, but they've put a lot of pressure on a new relationship'

Her family complete, she asked her GP if she could be sterilised. 'However, I was told you had to have had three pregnancies and be over 35 to be eligible for sterilisation on the NHS,' she explains.



Instead, she opted for a long-term contraceptive implant - a small, flexible tube inserted under the skin of the upper arm that stops the release of an egg from the ovary by slowly releasing progesterone into the body - which is effective for three years.

The device is reliable; only one woman in every 1,000 becomes pregnant while it is implanted, and for Bernice, this first device did its job.

However, in 2008, she and her husband, who had drifted apart, finally separated. Bernice began to forge a new life for herself and her daughters.

She bought a modest, four-bedroom semi close to one of her sisters in Wellingborough, Northamptonshire, and focused on her £28,000-a-year job and taking care of her daughters.

Then, in May 2011, realising that its expiry date was approaching, Bernice made an appointment with a clinic in Wellingborough to have her contraceptive implant removed and replaced.

'I lay on the couch and the nurse took the old one out - it's about the size of a matchstick - then the doctor popped the new one in.



'I didn't look. I'm a bit squeamish. There was a little bruising but I thought that was a small price to pay for three years of safety,' she says.

Bernice had not had a serious relationship since the end of her marriage, but had decided to play it safe just in case she met someone special.



In October 2011, she met Steven Gulla, 48, a dashing former paratrooper, on a night out with her sisters. 'Steve asked me to dance. He picked me up and swung me round. We were both laughing. I felt I'd known him for ever,' she recalls.

Safe sex

The Pill and condoms are the most widely used contraceptives in Britain, being used by 50 per cent of couples

Quickly they fell in love. Steve, who left the Army in 1999, worked as a lecturer in painting and decorating at a local college. Separated from his wife, he had two grown-up sons and four grandchildren. Within a few weeks he and Bernice decided he should move in with her and her daughters.

'We planned a life together,' recalls Bernice. 'There would be time with Callista and Tyra, but also time just for us. Steve loves paragliding and he'd promised to teach me.



'We planned to have weekends together while my daughters were staying with their dad. It would be time just for us; to relax and enjoy ourselves; we'd have meals out and holidays together.



'With two salaries coming in we'd be comfortable financially. The house was just the right size for the four of us - the girls had a bedroom each and there was a small spare one. Bit by bit we planned to redecorate it.'

And on another subject they both agreed: neither Bernice nor Steven wanted more children. Bernice had not enjoyed her pregnancies, and had suffered from post-natal depression with Tyra. But the difficult years, it seemed, were behind her, and her children were not only thriving, but growing more independent.

However, she had barely had time to thoroughly contemplate her plans for a future with her new love Steven before she started to experience some disquieting symptoms.

Bernice had not enjoyed her first pregnancies, and had suffered from post-natal depression

'In January 2012, when Steve and I had only been together for three months, I started feeling tired. I was constantly falling asleep. At the end of the month I was helping my sister move house. I'd been lifting her garden ornaments and felt really sick.

'I wondered if I was pregnant, then told myself that with the implant that was impossible.



'But the thought wouldn't go away. My breasts felt tender. So I went to Sainsbury's and bought a home test. I intended to eliminate the daft idea that I could possibly be having another baby.'

The test result was unequivocal: it was positive.



'My first reaction was disbelief, then shock, then pure anger,' she recalls. 'I threw the test against the bathroom wall. I've always planned my life, and now those plans were in complete disarray.'

That evening, Bernice broke the news to Steven.



'Although we'd made a commitment to each other, I didn't want him to feel trapped,' she recalls.

'When I told him, "I'm pregnant" he thought I was joking at first. Then I just stared at him and the truth sunk in.

Should precious NHS funds be used on such claims when resources are so sparse? 'We knew we owed it to our daughters to go ahead with the claim because any money we were awarded would help raise them,' she says'

'I said, "There's no decision for me. I'll be keeping it. But I understand if you don't want to stay. I want to give you the option to leave".'

'I was shocked, overawed,' recalls Steve. 'I was totting up the figures in my head: I'll be 58 when our child is ten: how much of its life am I going to see?" But I'd already decided I wanted to be with Bernice.



'I'd moved in because we wanted to be together. There was no thought that I'd leave - no question.

'But Bernice and I had ruled out having children together. I was confused. I wanted to know how on earth it had happened.'

Equally perplexed, Bernice phoned the contraceptive implant's helpline. 'I asked, "Can you ever get a false positive on a pregnancy test if you have the implant?" I thought perhaps an imbalance of hormones could cause it. But the adviser said it definitely wasn't possible. He told me to see my GP at once and to have the implant removed.'

So in February 2012, Bernice visited the clinic again. 'I told the nurse I was pregnant and obviously the implant needed to come out. She looked concerned.



'When it came out of my arm she seemed to be uncomfortable about its colour: it wasn't white, but greenish-yellow. She left the room, came back and said, "We'll let you know what we find out".



'I wanted to know why it hadn't worked. If I had been one of the tiny minority who'd become pregnant despite having the implant, I'd have accepted that. But I didn't believe that had happened, partly because of the nurse's reaction.'

'When everyone had gone and I had a moment to myself to sit and snuggle them, I felt just awe and love'

Two weeks on, Bernice received an apologetic phone call from her local NHS trust. She was promised a full investigation and last March she met Trust bosses.

Meanwhile, she and Steve went for her routine 12-week scan. 'We had just started to get our heads round the fact that I was having a baby,' says Bernice, 'And then the sonographer, who was looking at the image on the screen, said, "I can't quite see both of them".

'I didn't think I could take any more shocks. I said, "both of them?"

'Steve and I were silent; stunned. We'd been panicking about how we'd cope practically and financially with one. Now we were being told there were two. I was scared, shocked.

'My small spare bedroom was just big enough for a cot. Now there would be two. We'd just bought a bigger car to accommodate a baby seat. Now we'd have to trade it in for a people carrier. And all I could think about was how our lives would change for the next 20 years.'

Conscious of the trust's blunder, friends and family urged Bernice to seek compensation, but she and Steve say they were reluctant.

Their first concern was their twins. 'I didn't want them to find out later on in life and think they hadn't been loved,' says Bernice.

'[When we found out it was twins] Steve and I were silent; stunned. We'd been panicking about how we'd cope practically and financially with one. Now we were being told there were two'

For many others, the dilemma would be a conspicuously different one: should precious NHS funds be used on such claims when resources are so sparse?

But for Bernice, it was the imminent financial practicalities of raising her children that prevailed.



'We knew we owed it to our daughters to go ahead with the claim because any money we were awarded would help raise them,' she says.

Meanwhile, her double pregnancy progressed. Her weight ballooned. She suffered from gestational diabetes and had to inject herself with insulin. Neither did she enjoy the sense of her life constricting, her freedom diminishing.



'I felt invaded,' she says. Her two older daughters, however, were both unequivocally joyful.



'They were so excited. Callista said, "I've always wanted a baby brother or sister; now we're having two!"'

Despite her misgivings, the love stole in on Bernice, too. 'At the 20-week scan I saw them more distinctly. They were squished together; two little bodies, one bigger than the other, the little one sitting on the other's head and I thought, "How cute are they?" I felt a natural urge to love and protect them,' she says.

Their birth, on August 24, 2012, was, she says, bewildering. She remembers the crush of medical staff in the room; Steven's anxious face, then the ecstasy that flooded in on her after their safe, natural delivery.

'When everyone had gone and I had a moment to myself to sit and snuggle them, I felt just awe and love,' she says. 'Freya, born first, was just so cuddly. Lexi, who came along 14 minutes later, had a look of mischief on her face.'

Now their little house is busy and crammed. Lexi, dark-haired and grey-blue eyed, greets me with a beam of delight. Freya, fairer, squeaks and coos at her sister in the private, impenetrable language of twins.

'They're gorgeous little ladies, but they've put a lot of pressure on a new relationship,' says Bernice. 'But we're getting through it, aren't we Steve?'

They exchange a glance. When they have the money - and time - they plan to get married.

But there will be no more babies: Bernice has made sure of that. She has been sterilised.

In the small sitting room, toys jostle for position with high chairs, baby bouncers, a play pen. It is a chaotic, happy scene. After everything, Bernice is elated and exhausted.