I’ve always been exposed to death, working as a palliative care nurse you think you can handle any situation, we are described as being as strong as steel.



My pregnancy was complicated the moment I took the test, I was in a new relationship and my partner didn’t want the pregnancy to go ahead, discussions around a termination happened and soon after I began bleeding, I had a scan and it revealed twins, twin A and B, little blobs with heartbeats, my heart sank, I was on my own In the ultrasound room, my partner waiting outside, we were both shell shocked. I’d also discovered they were fraternal twins (DCDA) and this was likely hereditary although there are no twins in my family, how on earth did this happen for my first pregnancy?



I decided to carry on with the pregnancy and me and my partner separated, his level of support was questionable and I then at 12 weeks sank into antenatal depression, this lasted around 6 weeks and at my lowest I was suicidal under a crisis team, with help from a perinatal team I commenced new medication and felt better in myself, I’d come to terms with being a single mummy to twins with amazing support from my work, family and friends.



At 20 weeks things started to go wrong, I was under a premature clinic and having regular scans twice weekly, I’d found out twin A and B were a boy and girl and was overwhelmed with love and happiness that I’d have this perfect family, it would be three from this point. A few days later I started bleeding, a scan revealed Ava-twin B had suspected coarctation (narrowing of her aorta, a rare heart condition), the umbilical cord was positioned at the bottom of the placenta and she wasn’t growing as well as Zac-twin A. I was referred to fetal cardiology and it was recommended I have an amniocentesis as Ava’s legs were shorter and she could have a chromosome abnormality. Deciding to have the amniocentesis was the most difficult decision I’ve ever made, it was risky and the chance of miscarriage was slightly higher, I’d gone through every scenario possible, my worst fear was her quality of life being poor and being very unwell in neonatal intensive care which is what would happen when she was born. I decided to have the amniocentesis and they performed two, one on each twin.



My best friend and flat mate were with me during the procedure, I sobbed the whole way through, terrified I’d made a mistake, my partner was aware of what was happening and showed up at my flat that evening, we argued and I was frustrated he hadn’t helped in my decision making process. That night my waters leaked...



I was admitted to hospital to a labour ward in the Sands suite (I was unaware of this and thought I was In my own room because of my risk of infection. This was my first admission to hospital, I’d worked in them for years and I was on the receiving end, it became a fight for survival, my infection markers were rising and the doctors feared I was developing sepsis and wanted to induce me-I declined several times and begged to be given a chance for my babies to get to 24 weeks. A few days later, I bled heavily and the contractions started, I was 22 weeks, my worst fears had been confirmed and my babies weren’t going to make it. My labour lasted for nearly 48 hours, I delivered Zac first on 1/9/18 and Ava was born on 2/9/18.



My family and best friends were with me during the birth and from experience working with spiritual care teams I wanted support to have a naming ceremony, I knew at 22 weeks they legally didn’t exist, as if they didn’t matter. The midwives were incredible, they cried with me and looked after me beautifully. I had Zac next to me until Ava was born, he was perfect, he looked just like me partner, so tiny and peaceful. I held onto Ava and was terrified to give birth again, she looked different to Zac when she was born, entirely different facial features, my little girl and boy were with me and I held them together, something I’d dreamed of during my pregnancy. I played them music I’d played them during my pregnancy and kissed and cuddled them, dressed them and they lay together in a Moses basket with a cool pack. They were dressed in white and they were my perfect babies.



The time came when the midwives took them away to create their memory boxes, the midwife was so skilled, kind and gentle and I trusted her with my life and my babies to look after their fragile bodies, she took them to the fridge on the ward and I slept through the night after being awake for 48 hours. I’d lost nearly a litre of blood and felt very weak, physically, emotionally and mentally, I was broken. The perinatal psychiatry team who supported me through my depression saw me on the ward and arranged a one to one mental health nurse to keep an eye as they were concerned I’d attempt to hurt myself or end my life. I didn’t have the energy and my focus was continuing to be a mother and ensure that a funeral was organised. Again babies below 24 weeks aren’t usually granted a cremation alone unless for religious reasons, my heart sank. Luckily I had another incredible midwife, this time a bereavement midwife who walked me through every step and explained what needed to be done amazingly. A cremation was able to go ahead for my babies on their own through the NHS-I burst into tears with joy, joy that I could prepare for my babies a beautiful send off.



I was discharged home two days after giving birth, I was desperate to go home, I was supported at home by the midwives and the perinatal psychiatric team. I hadn’t anticipated the physical changes that occur after giving birth, I had ‘retained products’ (membranes and placenta tissue) in my uterus and the bleeding was constant and the pain unbearable. A month after giving birth I was blue lighted to hospital with a suspected post partum haemorrhage, I was back where I gave birth, reliving the trauma as if it had just happened, I was back on the Sands suite in the room opposite where I gave birth-how could this be happening?



The bleeding subsided and I was treated with antibiotics and sent home two days later. My mind was all over the place, partly numb partly jelly like, unable to retain any information I was given and still waiting to hear about a date for Zac and Ava’s funeral. It was a Tuesday I received a call from the mortuary, the funeral date had been chosen and it was on Friday, three days later. I think I went into fight or flight mode and carried on living as normally as I could-I had a job interview and was offered a new fantastic job and I was making plans for myself to keep myself going.



The funeral was at 9.30am, it was a foggy morning, misty and appropriate for a funeral. I was met by the undertaker and he explained the process. He asked if I’d like to carry the coffin, my heart broke a little bit more but I wanted to do it, I carried them down the aisle of the crematorium and the chaplain delivered a perfect service, I had chosen a song I’d played for them during the pregnancy and when I first met them-‘baby mine’ the song from Dumbo. I was a wreck, I thought I was going to faint with utter heartbreak, I watched my beautiful babies in their beautiful white tiny coffin lower down, I knew what was going to happen next. The funeral was over within 15 minutes.



My plan had been to have a diamond grown from their ashes and to have a ring made to wear all the time, I’d found a company to do this and this is the last thing I can do for the twins.



I returned to work after four months away as the pregnancy had been complicated, the reaction from my colleagues was overwhelming, I was told the twins were their babies too and they felt my pain and sadness. I am early on in my bereavement and am trying to survive each day, I can’t see a clear future at the moment but I’m able to make plans to make it a better one.



The kindness and compassion I experienced from doctors, midwives, my GP and the perinatal mental health team was flawless, I will be eternally grateful for the care I received at the worst time of my life