Still grieving the loss of one twin, I went into early labour at 26 weeks

The scene was not dissimilar to something you’d see in a picture-perfect TV sitcom. The moment a pregnant woman steps out of bed, her waters breaking in gushing, comedic fashion. Only there was nothing funny or picture-perfect about the situation I was in: my waters had broken 15 weeks early; over three months before they should have, skipping an entire trimester in the process.

We were, rather ironically, trying to relax on an early babymoon in regional NSW after what had been a horror pregnancy. We’d lost one of our twins, Rose, to Twin-To-Twin-Syndrome in our 20th week, then had an agonising five-week wait to see if our other twin Violet’s brain had been affected. We’d just had the results of Violet’s MRI (mercifully normal) and were told to try and relax for the upcoming final trimester. It felt so unfair that six months of hellishness – hope, despair, then a little bit more hope – had culminated in this.

An extremely frantic Google search told us Wollongong was the nearest emergency department to where we were staying. I was hysterical as I was under the impression that once your waters had broken, that was it – the baby was coming. Maybe I’d been watching too many picture-perfect sitcoms. And I’d consulted Dr Google enough to know the odds were stacked against a baby born at 25 weeks.

Once in hospital, I was given the first of two overall doses of steroids which might have saved Violet’s life as they can improve the baby’s lung maturity. Wollongong wasn’t equipped to care for extremely premature babies, so I was transferred via ambulance to the Royal Hospital For Women (RHW) in Sydney’s Randwick, where I’d already been attending the Maternal Fetal Medicine department.

It’s funny how quickly you adapt to the situation in hand. We now scrambled to research as much as possible on preterm births, the information at our disposal online proving to be a blessing and curse. Every day the baby remains inside your womb can make a huge difference. I had several false alarms and was in the delivery suite three times over the next couple of days.

Each time my contractions became too strong or frequent, the amazing nurses sprang into action and my adrenaline spiked. But I’d almost gotten into the rhythm of being in the hospital bubble, being hooked up to an ultrasound several times a day and hearing Violet’s soothing heartbeat. We’d even managed to watch an entire season of Line of Duty.

“She looked like a tiny, broken, baby bird, complete with miniscule leg cast from a fractured femur during delivery.”

Stark reality came crashing down on day five when I was rushed to the delivery room for the final time. It was undoubtedly the most traumatic thing I’ve ever experienced. I’m thankful I was put completely under and didn’t get to see how close we were to losing both our daughters.

When I woke up, there was no time to process what had happened as I was onto the next job – being a mum to a baby in the NICU.