A cheerier post today!
Dulwich has a very active twins’ club (there seems to be a strong correlation between twins and age/social class, guess it’s an IVF thang). We meet at Peckham Rye every Friday and then, hilariously, decamp to the local pub. Not for G&Ts (though I’m sure half of us wouldn’t mind one!) but because they have a big room out the back which we can take over, a door that accommodates twin juggernaut buggies, and with conveniently placed toilets. Oh I remember the days when I’d go to the pub for, oo, an actual drink!
Anyhows, a splinter group has been formed, as there are several of us who had babies at the same time and, despite the twins’ club brilliance, they’re mostly toddlers and it’s difficult doing an emergency feed in a pub…
We had our inaugural meeting at Rosie’s house and it was just fantastic. Three red eyed, sleep deprived, slightly crazed Mums. Six twins on a mat, six twins crying, but the fact they all were meant it was kinda OK to ignore them! We exchanged tales of hope and despair. We collectively diagnosed mine as having reflux which has been sooooo helpful as, 10 buckets of Gaviscon later, they’re now feeding and sleeping again properly.
Charlotte pulled. Well, in the sense that Finn stroked her hair.
I got a huge ego boost because a) am still breastfeeding (the other ladies had to stop for various, mostly hospital incompetence induced reasons) and b) mine are on a 4 hour routine and sleeping through the night. We is dope.
Until the girls then went mental! And I began to think about dummies. I’ve always had a bit of a ‘they’re for chavs’ downer on dummies but I do wonder whether, with two of them, I might actually allow myself to use them. As long as they’re weaned off them pronto. Thoughts welcome…it’s just, when they both kick off in public, it would allow me to bottle feed one of them at a time (tandem bottle feeding is very VERY hard!)
We also swapped birth stories. Another horrorfest from the hospital we shall call ‘Queens’, including a nurse getting Farenheit and Celsius mixed up and putting a jaundiced baby in a phototherapy machine and cranking the temperature up to the point where she would have literally cooked had the parents not realised something was wrong.
Oh, and being booked in for a Caesarean, left waiting for 5 hours outside theatre, midwives refusing to believe anything is wrong when you’re screaming that you’ve gone into labour anyway, and then by the time you get into the room the first twin’s head being out, so you have to deliver one ‘normally’ and then have the other taken out as an emergency. Outrageous.
It does make me wonder what exactly goes on in maternity wards and how many, sometimes fatal, mistakes there are. Because I think the % complaints will be really low as when you get back home you’re just too busy to write anything and so bloomin’ grateful that yours are alive. And it’s not about being overworked, in my experience. It’s attitude, and then systemic problems eg getting lost during staff handovers, nobody having overall responsibility for you etc.
But all that for another post 😉
For now, the sun is out in London, and Granny’s here and being brilliantly helpful. I might actually get to have a bath today, wonders will never cease!