‘It hit me, hard, I was a mother of six.’ 

There is nothing in your life like meeting your brand new baby. Just you, your husband and your love made into a person that is from the two of you. It is, in my opinion the closest time in your marriage. The blending together of your souls as you hold and gaze and cry and smile about this new human being that you both made. I simply adore those moments. I’m so lucky as I’ve had that time six times over. Each and every child has a most precious part of my heart and soul.  

I’ve heard people fret about not thinking they will have enough love to go round if they add another child. I have honestly never worried about feeling that way. Each child whether it’s been my first, third or sixth has more love from me than I knew I was capable of. 

I’ve also heard that people concern themselves over the type of parent they will be. They question their parents and the way in which they were raised. I have learned to be responsible for my own life, not to lay blame or live in the past. I parent as I see fit, along with my husband, of course. My mantra is to love my children with all that I am. I have good days, great days and bad days. I am only human, only one woman. I am not perfect although I try to be

***

These long awaited babies were here. In the room, in our arms, in our bed, in their crib, together and they were beyond gorgeous. Beyond every expectation I’d had.  

We poured over their every crease and fold, counted twenty fingers and twenty toes. All checked, touched, caressed and memorised. They both had the most amazing deep blue eyes. They just stared, quietly, soaking us in, just as much as we were drinking their little faces up.  

My husband and I decided to be totally modern and send text messages to most of our family & friends to announce their safe arrival. Not phoning and chatting to everyone we know and love meant, selfishly, that there was a lot of time for us to just be us, with our two new babies. We had both worked really hard to get to this moment. The birth of two healthy babies was one of the most massive things in our lives together. It had been months and months of worry but that was all behind us now. Big breath out.  

Of course we did ring our immediate family and my husband’s favourite memory of those calls was to our daughter. Morgan was 13 at the time and unbeknown to me she was very, very concerned. She must have been listening and understanding far more than we gave her credit for. Geoffrey rang to say “they’re here!” and all he got in reply was hysterical blubbering. Geoffrey thought something had gone terribly wrong at home, on Nana’s watch. He calmed her down and she began to speak. It was all about me and how worried she’d been that I would live through their birth and that both babes would be ok. She was simply just relieved. Poor girl.  

I was desperate for my four eldest children to come and see these blessed babies as soon as we could organise it. I was still in the labour ward, blissed out on my double bundle of baby. But also caught up in the extra care required in making sure my condition was stable. Birthing two babies is hard work, I needed some time to rest and regroup. 

I was excited as my mother said she would bring them in quickly, we live about 45 minutes from the hospital so I knew they would be a while. I was prepared for the onslaught or so I thought. 

In they came. Do you know how many feet four children have? Well in those hospital corridors it sounded like they had about 300 and their voices sounded like trumpets. I heard them coming before they got anywhere near us…… all I could think was, “ oh please shhhhh… I don’t want to be one of those mothers to many where people say… ‘she’s got too many children, can’t control them all’ ”.   Yikes. 

I saw a small face, peeping around the door. For months, Lachlan who at the time was four, asked and asked and asked when would the babies come out, he wanted to see their skin. Weird, but it’s all he said. He lead the way, confident as ever. As I smiled and encouraged him in my daughter came bounding across the room so delighted that they were born but so full of concern for me. At the time she was only thirteen but she was so grown up all of a sudden. She made me cry because I felt so proud that she was so very thoughtful. Then she fluffed her hair and insisted we take lots of photos of her with all her brothers. That’s more like the teenager I knew!  

It was an amazing time watching my youngest child, Hamish meet his two baby brothers. He was so tentative, so small and yet gazed upon them with big saucers of eyes. Full of love and wariness. He was so gentle, he did not want to hold them, he would not sit down and he definitely did not want to have a photo with them. As time went by Lachlan had a cuddle, desperate to hold them both at the same time. We propped him up with massive pillows in a large chair, so proud to be holding both babies at once. Then from out of the corner a little Hamish head popped up slowly and leaned, super careful, over the arm of the chair and kissed Stirling on the top of his little baby head. It’s probably the most tender moment I’ve witnessed. My heart sang. 

Then the room got incredibly hot. It was unbearable. I wanted a shower more than anything else. I wanted a cup of tea and to sleep and to cry and be alone. Everything all at once. I asked my mother if she could bundle them all up slowly and take them home. The noise was getting to me and I needed to be quiet. She kindly did as I asked. It had been a completely delightful visit but the magnitude of the day had caught up with me and I suddenly felt absolutely overwhelmed at being a mother to six children. My heart raced with fear. Could I do this? Would I be able to split myself up into six pieces? What if I have no time left for my husband? What if I fall apart? What if the babies never sleep and I never sleep again?? Oh dear… what had we done?  

The children left. My husband and mother saw me falling apart on the inside of my head. It was as though they could hear my mind ticking over. As usual in they swooped and all was made well. My mother hurried the childrens’ goodbyes. I kissed and cuddled as best I could. I kind of wanted to leave and go home with them, knowing the night ahead would be a long one. But as quiet descended and I was allowed to bathe. I was moved to a room, we were settled in. My husband in bed beside me and my sweet baby boys together in a twin crib. The two most gorgeous beings. It hit me but in a calm quiet way that for some reason I could not explain, I was completely and utterly the luckiest woman on the face of the earth that day. I had done ivf, got pregnant with identical twins. One embryo that decided to divide into two separate little boys. I had gotten through their pregnancy, it had been tough but I was healthy and so were they. I had given birth to them, we were all fine.  

In the room near the nurses station, I knew we would get no sleep for the noise, the hustle, the bustle. I knew I would be just fine. I knew I’d probably have many more moments where I would doubt myself. Where I would get tired, frustrated, angry, sad, lonely and selfish but I also knew that many women would give their eye teeth to be in my shoes. I had wanted another baby so badly it physically hurt when I hadn’t been pregnant. I knew I was lucky, I knew it was meant to be. That they had picked us to be their parents and that my sweet husband and I were ready for the job.

I had become a mother to six children that day. From this day forward nothing would be how it had been.