It takes a village to raise a child. It takes two to raise twins.

“Congratulations! You’re having twins.”

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 last embryo from IVF - one of only two that made it to day five blastocyst and frozen for two years. For my husband and I, 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 of four. Another baby was so wanted and longed for. Oh, the longing. Anyone who has been through IVF can appreciate the overwhelming experience and 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 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. And an emotional wave of relief washed over me. Our last embryo had worked. Phew. 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 and surprise.

As my obstetrician continued to scan my uterus, up popped another embryo 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 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. Not in a good or bad way - but it’s disorientating. 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. This was life changing news. As with most life changing news, everything changes. 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: Will our car fit three baby / toddler seats? Would our renovated house accommodate another bedroom? How will I physically carry twins? Will I emotionally and mentally cope? 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 and surprise, 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. My biggest lesson from all of this? Realising that life throws you unexpected challenges and you embrace them as best as you can.

‍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 - our twins had severe bottle aversions and all feeds were through a nasal gastric tube. I won’t go into detail, but 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 visited the house weekly to help us feed, bathe and change the boys. My sister-in-law filled our freezer with small pureed food parcels. My dad dropped and picked up my son from childcare every single day. My mum read to him every night before bed. We received beautiful bouquets of flowers from friends. Home-cooked delicious meals were 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 and inflatable vest in a turbulent sea threatening to drown me on an almost daily basis. My emotional life jacket.

The Australian Multiple Birth Association (AMBA) states that research has shown that mothers of twins 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 and more fragmented sleep. Our relationship stress has never been higher. The financial strain is enormous with double the costs of specialist appointments, formula, nappies, clothing etc. The daily effort and time investment to express breastmilk and to maintain supply is significant. Returning to work is not an option for either of us with the boys on feeding tubes.

I don’t want to focus on the negatives, because we are truly blessed to have twins and consider them a gift. Our boys are only eight months’ old and we’ve got a long road ahead of us. But these are very real and daily challenges for our family. 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 been the core of maintaining my mental health during the perinatal period. I can’t thank them enough. They have shown up, stepped up and supported us.

It takes a village to raise a child. It takes two to raise twins. And to my village, I say thank you.