Having successfully arranged two sleeping babies beside me, I shall begin.

I would not usually describe myself as the possessive type, though friends and family may beg to differ. I would say I usually find it easy to share things and allow other people to use my possessions. When it comes to sharing my babies I feel very differently.

Since the arrival of our two babies we have had a succession of visitors, all intended to help us out. These two have enjoyed plenty of arms to lie in, chests to doze on and willing pushers of their pram. There have been hordes of well-meaning types in our flat suggesting I take myself off for a quiet nap whilst they hold the babies. For all the good intentions, I cannot enjoy seeing them in other people’s arms, let alone sleep well without them near me. I can relax when I see them held by their father, my sister or their maternal grandparents, but any other devotee I find very hard to take. I find myself looking enviously out of the corner of my eye at one of my sleeping babes or saying rather sharply ‘are you sure he is comfortable like that?’ when I can see him slumbering deeply. An overwhelming sense of possession has possessed me. 

You would think this problem easily solved – I could simply limit the holding time of other people and take the baby onto my lap when it all got too much. But not so with twins. I am near constantly busy with one baby and must let someone else, out of necessity, hold the other. You might then think, given I almost always have one of them on my arm, I would feel I had enough contact with my babies and could relax at seeing the other lie sleeping with some adoring type than sitting unhappily alone in a little baby chair. Twin mothers simply have to accept letting someone else dote on their babies from time to time. 

Despite the rationale, I still cannot help my darting looks and cutting remarks. Perhaps I will get used to handing them over – you may need to give me a few months. So I took two babies to bed today and did not sleep at all but felt much happier for it.

I have a business idea for the entrepreneurial, sartorial type. An elegant line of post-maternity clothes. Almost all new mothers – apart from those who claim to leave the maternity ward in the same pair of jeans they wore on the day of conception – will say the have a wardrobe full of clothes but nothing to wear. Normal clothes too small, maternity clothes too big and nothing in which you can breastfeed discreetly.

A few maternity shops do include a ‘nursing’ line, but the clothes they offer are these strange shaped t-shirts with a big split in the front and invariably ugly. One solution is to wear your partner’s shirts – though usually he needs those. Another is to invest in the odd pretty high-waisted loose dress with buttons down the front. But they are few and far between and trying anything on is impossible when carrying a baby in a sling.

All I can say is thank god it is summer – winter would make these wardrobe challenges harder still. Perhaps it is time I started sewing (in all of those idle moments … ).

Another aspect of motherhood I had not appreciated before the birth of the twins is that I would always see their faces when I close my eyes. EIght weeks in and I have managed at least twice to send them out in the pram with trusted grandparents but without me. But when I lie down in these peaceful moments in a strangely empty flat, their cries echo in my ears as hauntingly as their reddened, contorted faces drift in front of my eyes. In reality they slumber on silently perfectly rosy faced.
The power of my mind is rather magical in a way, leaving me feeling constantly attached. But I wonder when I may daydream of other things again – in another eighteen years perhaps.

The advice from the breastfeeding consultant was to feed the babies as much as I could and relax and enjoy it at the same time, but not to worry about the times when a slug from the bottle seemed a good idea. Follow your instinct, she said, but preserve your sanity.

So it was as I sat there cowlike yesterday evening, following her advice, baby once again at the breast, my eyes fell upon the many cards we have received congratulating us on the birth of our twins. Most of these cards, from family and friends, were accompanied by a charming present or two – we requested only double packs. (Entry continued one-handed five days later.) Obviously, everyone is feeling very celebratory on our behalf, which is rather touching and very kindly.

Tired and filled with the standard anxieties of early parenthood, I was struck by the importance of this wider sense of celebration. The funny thing is that as a new parent, and most likely particularly of twins, you barely have time or energy to feel that way. However delighted you are at the arrival of your offspring, your days are rather filled with a sense of survival, from one hour to the next. It is just as exhilarating, but not quite the stuff easily conveyed in pink and blue cards with little babies on the front.

Still, it is in receiving these cards and all the lovely presents that come along with them and the many many messages of congratulations that remind you and your bleary eyed gaze that something truly wonderful is afoot. Good job other people remember to celebrate for you. We will be celebrating in about five years’ time, when we have slept through the night again.

The innocent sounding question, asked by every midwife and mother-in-law, tremours the bosom of any new breastfeeding mother. This question coupled with the obsessive frequent weighing of newborn babies by growth chart obsessed health visitors weakens the confidence and resolve of any young mother.

For the mother with an apparently good milk supply, there then ensues the following inner conflict. I know that breastfeeding is the healthiest choice for my baby. I know that the more I breastfeed my baby the more milk I will produce. But if I fully breastfeed my baby no one knows how much milk he drinks each time. The only measure is the amount of weight they gain and currently the midwife says he is lagging behind and I should ‘top up’ with a bottle. First and foremost, I want my baby to thrive, so I best follow the midwife’s advice and give him a bottle ‘top up’ feed here and there. She says this won’t harm my milk production and it will give me ‘a good rest’. But then when feeding my baby with a bottle and seeing him glug down 80ml and lie there zonked, just as his father might look having wolfed down a pizza in 10 minutes flat, my breasts start to ache and I think this can’t be right. I also know that anxiety can reduce milk production. And on I worry …

Add into the above dilemma the reality of my situation, which is that I have newborn twins – double the pleasure, double the breastfeeding angst. To my inexpert maternal eye, my predominantly breastfed twins are bonny and bouncing. They sleep well, drink enthusiastically, don’t cry too much and kick around energetically like unskilled synchronised swimmers when awake. To my midwife’s scales and growth charts they are not gaining weight as rapidly as she would like. My rebellious side says to hell with that, they behave like satisfied babies. But the more anxious side resorts to the bottle when both are screaming hard.

Ideally, I would fully breastfeed my twins, but the problem is getting the right support and advice without compromising their and my health. No getting up in the middle of the night to heat a bottle of milk, no chance of tummy infections, all those natural antibodies… Often, I think, much advice is designed to let mothers who are not keen to breastfeed off the hook – to say adding in a bottle is fine and you should not feel guilty doing so. But what about advice for those who are really keen to breastfeed? I have an appointment with a ‘breastfeeding consultant’ on Thursday. Perhaps she will have some more seasoned twin experience and understand the committed breastfeeding mother.