Given how early the boys were, as soon I'd birthed them, they were handed to the paediatric nurses and consultants to check. One twin was taken straight to neonatal; I was allowed a few precious seconds of skin to skin with the second twin who was regulating his breathing better but the priority was getting them to the safety of NICU.

That first visit to neonatal intensive care unit was a shock. The boys lay curled up in plastic, space craft like incubators. Naked, apart from tiny nappies. Little eye masks on, being basked in blue light due to their jaundice. Each hooked up to various monitors beeping and whirring. It felt like they had such a fragile hold on life. Those first few days were petrifying, alarms would sound frequently. Thankfully the calmness of the nurses meant that we soon learnt what did and didn't warrant panicking over and they talked us though what each wire and monitor was there for. In the early days it felt like we were in the way, there was so little that we could do for the boys and I desperately wanted to be with them but felt like a spare part, as the nurses tended to them around me. The most I could do in those first few days was provide milk, and so I pumped every 2 hours until I was bruised and exhausted.

As the boys started to stabilise, we were finally able to hold our babies. Those first few moments of skin to skin were what I had been waiting for, just to feel my babies' tiny bodies on me. However even skin to skin time had to be carefully timed to coincide with feeding and changing and had to last for a minimum of an hour due to every interaction being very stimulating for the boys. My tiny babies should still be in the comforting warmth of my body, not being handled any more than they had to be but it was so alien not to be able to just pick up and cuddle my babies.

I was discharged from the hospital after 3 days, and leaving without my babies was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I knew I'd be back within a few hours, but my maternal instinct was that my babies should be with me. I was wracked with guilt that my body hadn't been able to keep them safe inside any longer and questioned whether I'd done something to bring the labour on early. I felt helpless, unable to look after my babies myself, instead relying on the doctors and nurses to keep them alive around the clock. Having a toddler at home as well, I felt torn between wanting to be there for her and wanting to be at the hospital with my boys, wherever I was I felt guilty and quite literally like my heart was being torn in 2. Between the 45 minute each way trips to the hospital 3 times a day and the 3 hourly pumping regime I was exhausted, and highly emotional.

Every tiny step in NICU feels huge. A weight gain of 80 grams or a twin being ‘hatched’ from the incubator is a cause for celebration and after 5 long weeks of trips back and forth, we were allowed to take our boys home. This in itself was terrifying, they were still so tiny, they hadn’t even reached their due date yet, and we had become used to the safety blanket of NICU, with its monitors and nurses watching over the boys 24/7. I don't think I slept a wink that first night that they were home, petrified that they'd stop breathing and I wouldn't realise. I felt fiercely protective over them and in those early days didn't want anyone holding and touching them other than us. The boy's clever little bodies would build resistance to our home environment but exposure to any foreign germs outside of that at this stage could be devastating.

Fast forward, and the boys are now 10 months old (the equivalent of 8 months) and thriving. It's hard to believe they were ever as tiny and fragile as they were. Premature babies have so many obstacles to overcome, but they really are such fighters and the staff in the neonatal wards are honestly angels. If we didn't live in a developed country with the outstanding healthcare system that we have then I highly doubt my babies would be here with me today. Their care over those 5 weeks cost approximately £150,000. I can't begin to explain how grateful I am to our NHS and the amazing staff who work in neonatal for giving me my twins. 

If anyone is interested in reading more about life in the neonatal unit then I'd highly recommend picking up a copy of 'Mothership' by Francesca Segal. It's a very raw, very real account of a mother's journey with her twins.