But after miscarrying three months earlier, we were scared to get our hopes up.
During a scan at seven weeks, we got good news.
‘You’ve got a healthy baby,’ the sonographer smiled.
But, showering that night, I began to bleed.
This can’t be happening again, I panicked.
Prepared for the worst, the next day I had an emergency ultrasound.
Jason had an appointment at a nearby clinic at the same time, so I went alone.
‘You didn’t have a miscarriage, you’re having twins!’ the specialist said.
This can’t be real! I thought.
After losing one baby, we were now going to be blessed with two!
The bleeding was due to subchorionic haematoma – a clot caused by the accumulation of blood between the placenta and the wall of my uterus.
‘It’s really common,’ the doctor assured me.
But there was a higher chance of miscarriage, so I’d need fortnightly scans.
Breaking the twins news to Jason afterwards, he couldn’t stop smiling.
‘I can’t believe it,’ he grinned.
A few weeks later, we were ready to fork out $500 for a blood test that screened for common chromosomal abnormalities.
‘Don’t get the test,’ the doctor said kindly, as I had yet another scan. ‘You’re carrying monochorionic monoamniotic twins.’
Known as MoMo twins, it meant our babies were sharing the same amniotic sac and placenta.
‘They’re the highest risk twins you can have,’ the doctor explained.
She wouldn’t take our money as, horrifyingly, there was only a 50 per cent chance our bubs would survive past the 26-week mark.
Their umbilical cords could get tangled and knotted, resulting in impaired blood flow to one or both of the babies.
I felt like my heart had been ripped out.
At home, I typed the diagnosis into Google.
Most doctors will offer a termination, I read in one article.
Each subsequent entry was just as terrifying.
There’s no point looking, I decided.
I just had to stay healthy and positive.
Soon after, we found out our twins were little girls.
Too scared to get excited, we didn’t dare buy any baby things, just in case.
Still, we’d rub my belly, and chat to our girls, hoping for a miracle.
By 20 weeks, they were kicking their mummy all the time! It was like they were working together with their four little feet to push my tummy out!
At 26 weeks, I was admitted to hospital, so the twins could be monitored three times a day.
The plan was to have a caesarean at 32 weeks. But, at 28 weeks and five days, the heart rate of one of the bubs became really erratic.
‘If we don’t deliver the girls now, we’re at risk of putting them at more distress,’ the doctor explained.
I couldn’t wait to meet our daughters, but I was petrified for them.
Prepped for surgery, I was wheeled into the theatre.
When our first little girl, Olivia, was delivered, she let out a hearty cry.
That’s all I needed to hear, I thought, tears streaming down my face.
She was so beautiful.
Glancing at Jason, it was clear he was in awe.
Olivia’s little sister, Zoe, came soon after.
Terrifyingly, she was limp and looked blue.
Our girls were whisked away to be checked over and it felt like an eternity.
The obstetrician showed us the umbilical cord, which had completely twisted and formed a knot. It had cut off the girls’ blood supply.
‘They’re doing really well,’ a midwife smiled five minutes later.
I felt like I could finally breathe again.
Once I was stitched up, the paediatric team wheeled the girls out in their separate humidicribs.
For a magical minute, I got to hold them one by one, before they were taken to the NICU.
At around a kilo each, they were tiny, but perfect.
Over the next few weeks, Jason and I would carefully cuddle a twin each.
But the girls weren’t strong enough to lie in the same crib, let alone have us hug them at the same time.
Their humidicribs were three metres apart but they were totally in sync! If Zoe’s oxygen levels dropped, within moments so would Olivia’s and vice versa.
Then, 27 days on, the girls were finally reunited.
Olivia was placed on my chest first. When it was Zoe’s turn, she instinctively reached out her tiny arm and embraced her sister.
Our girls had hugged for the very first time!
They’re going to be fine, I smiled.
No matter what, I knew they would always have each other’s back.
From then on, when Zoe or Olivia became grizzly, or their vitals were unstable, we’d pop them together and they’d calm right down.
After heart surgery, the girls came home three months later.
Now, 18 months old and walking, our miracle twins are thriving!
Always babbling in their own little language, Olivia’s a cluey problem solver, while Zoe is a funny little brute who is always trying to make her big sister laugh.
Our gorgeous girls keep us on our toes.
But we’re lucky – we’ve been blessed with double the love!
For more information, visit Ann's blog.
