I was lying down in my obstetrician’s office having my “dating” scan at seven weeks. It had been two weeks since a positive pregnancy blood test, and I was praying for a heartbeat. My only thought was please just make this a viable healthy pregnancy. We’d used our final embryo from IVF - one of only two that had made it to day five blastocyst, and then frozen for two years. For my husband and me, it represented so many hopes and dreams. The wanted sibling for our young son, the beloved grandchild for the grandparents, another cousin to join the growing pack, and the completion of our family. Another baby was so wanted and longed for. Oh, the longing. Anyone who has been through IVF can appreciate the gut-wrenching hole you feel wanting and waiting for your baby.
But back to that first appointment. I remember it so clearly. A midweek appointment just before lunchtime in a familiar hospital overlooking Carlton Gardens. I jumped on a city tram from work. My husband met me at the entrance. We didn’t wait long. Before we knew it, I was on the bed, but worked up and worried. Whilst the obstetrician scanned my uterus, I could clearly see an embryo and the doctor quickly confirmed we were having a viable pregnancy. Immediately I cried tears of happiness and hope. An emotional wave of relief washed over me. Our last embryo had worked. I wouldn’t have to go through another round of hormones, injections and egg collection. But within a few minutes, relief quickly turned to shock.
As my obstetrician continued to scan my uterus, another embryo became visible on the screen. A second embryo. “There’s two,” I immediately said. Silence and stillness filled the room. My normally talkative obstetrician didn’t say a word. Nothing. He just kept looking back and forth at my exposed skin and the black and white screen. I saw it so clearly, but there was little clarity in that moment. Minutes felt like hours. Was what I was seeing correct? Why are there two? What does this mean? “There’s two,” I repeated. Both my husband and student nurse were sitting up straight and paying attention now.
“We were all looking at the screen together. Time. Stood. Still. Finally, my obstetrician confirmed it: "Congratulations! You’re having twins.””
Everything changes with twins
From the moment you find out you’re expecting twins, your world is turned upside down. I was disoriented. This wasn’t the plan. We already had a two-year-old. We were hoping for an average sized family of two parents and two kids. With only one remaining embryo, we never imagined three kids was an option. And as our family suddenly expanded from one to three, we were now outnumbered. Everything had changed. I’d gone from my first healthy “boring” pregnancy to now having high-risk multiples. In that first appointment we learnt we were having monochorionic, diamniotic (MCDA) twins. Our one fertilised embryo split. Two amniotic sacs. One single placenta. The incidence of this type of twinning is approximately one in 400.
Carrying a twin pregnancy means more scans, more specialists, more appointments, more time, more costs, more effort. It certainly isn’t two for the price of one. It’s double the cost for everything. Don’t get me wrong - we feel absolutely blessed and having twins is a gift. But initially there was a lot to process. And a lot of questions: Would our car fit three baby/toddler seats? Would our renovated house accommodate another bedroom? How would I physically carry twins? Would I cope emotionally and mentally? What would this mean for my career? When and how do we tell our family and friends? And most importantly, but difficult to acknowledge and address: Do we keep the twin pregnancy?
Following the appointment, as my husband and I walked back to our workplaces, and still in complete shock, we came to this conclusion: Having twins wasn’t planned and we wanted two kids, but how blessed and fortunate are we to have three. The pitter patter of two sets of tiny feet. Not just one, but two siblings for our son. The chorus and chaos of three little ones laughing and playing together. Double the joy. Double the trouble.
“It took weeks to process this life changing news. And it took months to come to terms with it.”
Those months were some of the most challenging I’ve ever had. Managing a high risk twin pregnancy, as well as looking after a two-year-old, and juggling full-time work wasn’t easy. The pregnancy required fortnightly scans from week 15 due to the possibility of twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome. This is a rare condition that occurs when identical twins share an imbalanced blood supply. It can lead to serious complications for both twins. Fortunately this didn’t happen. What did happen however was not pretty. My twin pregnancy was not all glowing skin, shiny hair and beautiful radiance. Think of the worst nausea you’ve experienced, multiply it by ten and live with it 24/7 for months on end. I also had vulvar varicosities - something you do not want to Google.
Despite this, I slowly and successfully made it through each week. There were many ultrasound growth scans and obstetrician appointments, but also acupuncture and pregnancy massage for prenatal support. It was all going to plan - both twins were head down and I was working towards a vaginal delivery. Good work boys. But in a few short weeks, everything changed. My third trimester was a whirlwind. Week 30 I got bronchitis whilst on my babymoon (with toddler in tow). Week 32 scan showed twin one positioned feet first (breech). The little bugger had flipped. Week 34 was the last week of summer and one of the hottest I can remember. By this point, I think the boys wanted out. One lazy Sunday afternoon, all of a sudden, my waters broke. I went into spontaneous labour and three hours later, our two beautiful babies had arrived.
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Getting help: Support after birth
Your village looks different with twins
Most people know about “the village” - that is, the community of friends, family, paid and unpaid helpers to support you in the early years of raising a child. When we had our first son three years ago (in COVID lockdown restrictions), we were surrounded by a beautiful, generous and loving village. We received practical, emotional and psychological support. Here I want to acknowledge our privilege - not everyone has a village that looks like this. But when it comes to multiples, it’s such a unique and challenging experience, and your village looks different to most families. Speaking of challenging experiences - both our boys had severe bottle aversions and had to be fed through nasal gastric tubes for six months. They’re now off the tubes and doing better, but it’s still difficult to talk about. Postnatal trauma is real and I’m seeing a psychologist dealing with this “violation of expectation” in that precious first year of life. You can’t anticipate a situation like this and imagine you’d feed your babies this way. When you’re going through an adversity like this, the village looks different again.
Our village is a multi-generational, culturally-diverse group of people - mostly loving family, many considerate friends and some wonderful volunteers. Add a significant team of healthcare clinicians, including maternal child health workers, pediatricians, dietitians, speech therapists and social workers. When we were in hospital we had volunteers look after the boys to provide respite for my husband and me. At home, a volunteer visits the house weekly to help us feed, bathe and change the boys. My sister-in-law fills our freezer with small pureed food parcels. My dad drops and picks up my son from childcare every single day. My mum reads to him every night before bed. We’ve received beautiful bouquets of flowers from friends. Home-cooked delicious meals dropped on our doorstep. Boxes of fresh fruit and veg from colleagues. And many hours of practical help from family every day. Our village is large and loving, and I cannot thank them enough.
You’re not meant to do it alone
As a fiercely independent person who struggles to ask for and accept help - having twins has been a humbling experience. You can’t do it alone. From day one, I haven’t been able to do it alone. I know some twin parents who can manage two (or more) babies on their own, but I simply can’t. Add in bottle aversions and tube feeding, and it’s near impossible. Parenting is a universally hard job, and I’ve had to reach out and seek more help than I thought to manage twins (and an older child). But you’re not meant to do it alone. And I’m lucky that I haven’t had to.
“My village has been my lifesaver. It has been my steady anchor in a turbulent sea threatening to drown me on an almost daily basis.”
And I have needed it. Research has shown that mothers of twin's experience rates of clinical anxiety that are three times higher than among mothers of singletons and rates of depression are five times higher. My emotional health after having twins is poorer than after having my first child. Of course, this is not surprising. The time and intensity of caretaking twins - and balancing this with a three-year-old - is incredibly challenging. We have less sleep, and it’s more fragmented. Our relationship stress has never been higher. The financial strain is enormous with double the costs of specialist appointments, formula, medication, nappies, clothing etc. The daily effort, calories and time to express breastmilk and to maintain supply is significant. Returning to work was not an option for either of us when the boys were on feeding tubes.
Our boys just turned one year old, and we’ve got a long road ahead of us.
“My biggest lesson from all of this? Realising that life throws you unexpected challenges and you embrace them as best as you can. Also, there’s a lesson in gratitude and appreciation.”
Every day with twins feels huge. Without help, we would be drowning. My emotional and mental health, marriage and relationship, and wellbeing of our three children would suffer. We’re swimming against the current everyday and are just making it to shore by bedtime. My village has saved me and my husband from pre- and post-natal anxiety and depression. I can’t thank them enough. They have shown up, stepped up and saved us.
It takes a village to raise a child. It takes two to raise twins. And to my village, I say thank you.
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