Everyone told me what could go wrong Thinking about my birth can still make me cry. Almost 24 hours. Hours of contractions. Hours of pushing. Two girls. And a feeling I can barely explain: I felt so powerful. So connected to my body. Like we were doing this together, my body, my girls and me.
That wasn’t the picture I was sent home with during pregnancy.
Those conversations were mostly about risks. What could go wrong. What my body probably wouldn’t do on its own. Induction. Maybe a caesarean. Possible complications for my girls. It felt like another worst-case scenario kept being added, when I also just wanted to be pregnant. Happy. Curious. Enjoying those two little people in my belly.
So here’s my story. The full version, with the beautiful bits and the tension that came before them. My breathing, my questions for the doctors, my slimy okra water and my seriously deep birth space, lol. Because when you’re pregnant with twins, you deserve to read about how beautiful it can be too.
This is how I experienced it. No guarantee for anyone else. But an experience I don’t want to keep to myself.
One placenta, two girls and a whole lot of worry My girls are identical and shared one placenta. A monochorionic diamniotic twin pregnancy. That comes with increased medical risks, and those risks were very real for me. I want to be clear about that, because this story isn’t about pretending everything is fine when there are genuine concerns.
Both my girls were tiny and weren’t growing well. One of them was receiving far fewer nutrients. According to the doctors, the placenta was functioning less and less well. Those were serious concerns, and I knew that.
From 30 weeks I had check-ups three times a week. Three times a week, more tests, more conversations, more things that might happen. They wanted to admit me and talked about inducing at 32 weeks and a possible caesarean.
It scared me so much. And believe me, nine times out of ten that fear got right in. I wasn’t breezing through it thinking I knew better. I regularly went home frightened and unsure. These were my children. Of course it hit me.
What I struggled with was how little room those conversations seemed to leave for anything except worry. The risks absolutely needed discussing. But I also needed some calm. Explanations I could understand. Some room to feel: maybe this could be beautiful.
When you keep hearing what could go wrong, it gets into your head. You’re carrying more than two babies. You’re carrying all those possible outcomes too. For me, there was this huge negative weight around something I’d been looking forward to so much.
I wanted to know what was actually happening So I kept asking questions. Sometimes the same ones again, sometimes worded differently. I wanted to understand what was happening right then and why a particular recommendation was being made.
‘But do I really have to stay right now? Are my babies actually in danger at this moment? Is there an immediate threat to their lives? What exactly do the tests show?’
As I remember those conversations, I was repeatedly told there was no immediate threat to life at that moment, but there were major risks. I wanted to understand that distinction. What could they see? What did they expect? Why recommend an intervention now? What would waiting mean?
I didn’t want fear to be the only thing behind my decision. I wanted information. I wanted a say in what happened to my body and my girls.
And yes, I understand why doctors need to be alert in a pregnancy like this. Complications with twins sharing one placenta can develop quickly, even when you feel fine. You can’t feel everything, however connected you are to your body. That’s why those check-ups mattered.
But I also wanted to stay myself in those conversations. A woman with questions, feelings and her own voice. I wasn’t against medical care. I wanted room for medical knowledge and my own experience. That was what I was trying to find.
And underneath it all, I felt something new The strange thing is, before pregnancy I barely trusted my body or myself. This deep trust in my body wasn’t something I’d always had. It suddenly became much stronger during my pregnancy.
Alongside all that fear, somewhere deep down I also felt calm. Sometimes so strongly I thought: where is this coming from? Suddenly I could feel everything more clearly. Like there was something else I could listen to alongside the conversations, the tests and all my thoughts.
I kept saying, ‘My girls will come when they’re ready.’
That pregnancy really opened up my spiritual side. I felt I’d manifested my pregnancy, my birth and later some of my experiences with my girls. For me, that means picturing something, feeling it and really believing in it. It played a big part in how I experienced that time.
And yes, I can hear myself, haha. I’m the one who used to think all of this was way too woo-woo. I was never that spiritual girl. But this is what I felt and lived through, and I want to be able to say it without watering it down into polite words everyone is comfortable with.
At the same time, I can’t prove my thoughts caused the outcome. Something feeling like manifestation to me doesn’t make it a guarantee for someone else. Both can exist for me: an experience that means a lot, and still questioning what you can conclude from it.
‘See you Monday!’ — I felt something different The Friday before I gave birth, I had another check-up. As I left, the doctors said, ‘See you Monday!’ My induction was booked for that Monday.
I calmly told them I wouldn’t be back for that appointment. My girls would arrive on their own that weekend. Or I’d already be in hospital on Monday because labour had started naturally.
They looked at me a bit strangely, laughed and said again, ‘Yeah, yeah, see you Monday!’
But I stood by it. ‘No, I’m not coming back.’
They thought I’d be back on Monday. Labour probably wouldn’t start on its own and they’d need to induce me. Yet I felt something different. I still don’t know how to explain that feeling neatly. It didn’t feel like just hoping. It was a deep, quiet trust.
I’d started having practice contractions around 35 weeks. At 36 weeks and 4 days, my waters broke spontaneously. A day later, at 36 weeks and 5 days, Infinite and Unity were born. On 26 August. My two beautiful girls. 🩷🩷
So labour started on its own, before the planned induction. That still moves me. After so many conversations about what my body probably couldn’t do on its own, it happened anyway.
That doesn’t mean you can predict when you’ll give birth, or that your feelings matter more than check-ups. For me, it was simply a very special experience: what I’d felt so strongly matched how my labour eventually began.
Almost 24 hours, working with my body My birth lasted almost a whole day. That might sound long. And yes, there were hours of contractions and eventually hours of pushing. But what I remember most is how deeply I was in it.
Not once did it feel like a fight against my body.
I worked with it.
With every contraction, I breathed. I talked to my body. I noticed what was happening, let go where I could and kept telling myself my body was allowed to do this. My girls and I were doing it together. Every contraction brought us closer.
I’d spent a lot of time on breathing and consciously relaxing during pregnancy. Those things were there during labour too. I kept coming back to what was happening right then, to my body and my girls.
Even when pushing went on for hours, I wasn’t constantly wondering how much longer it would take. I was in that moment. In my breath. In what my body was showing me. It almost feels strange to put a number of hours on it afterwards, because time had faded so far into the background.
What felt most incredible? I didn’t feel powerless at all. I felt unbelievably strong. So much was happening, yet I felt completely there within it.
My seriously deep space, lol At some point I was so far inside my own world that I barely noticed anything around me. Like I’d landed in another dimension. A seriously deep space.
The closest I can get is a kind of natural, blissful ecstasy. Like my body had made a huge dose of happy chemicals all by itself. I was relaxed, present and at the same time miles away in my own bubble.
From about four in the afternoon until four in the morning I was in hospital in that deep meditative state. Real hypnobirthing vibes. I was there, but also completely in my own world, with my body and my girls.
Meanwhile, the babies’ heart monitors kept needing repositioning because they couldn’t get clear heartbeats. Sometimes there was no clear signal, sometimes they picked up mine. Doctors kept coming in to check what was happening and find the heartbeats again.
And me? I barely noticed any of it. While all of that was going on around me, I was so deep in my own bubble that the coming and going and checking barely registered. Maybe that gives you a better idea of what I mean by that seriously deep space.
There were also things suggested that I didn’t want. My partner protected my wishes and stopped things I didn’t want to consent to. I’m so glad he stood beside me like that, especially while I was so deep in the process.
High on life itself, haha. That’s probably the closest description.
I want to tell that part too. You hear so much about pain, fear and losing control when giving birth. My own experience felt deeply connected and powerful. That feeling belongs in my birth story just as much as how many hours it lasted.
I don’t know if I’ll ever fully get it across. But when I think back, I can still feel some of that calm and wonder. My body was doing something enormous, and I felt I could move with it.
On 26 August at 03:36, Infinite Sunshine Coster was born.
Eleven minutes later, at 03:47, Unity Moonlight Coster followed.
There they were. My two girls. 🩷🩷
After all those months of hearing about possible complications, an early induction and a caesarean, suddenly they were here. Everything I’d been looking forward to.
For me, the birth felt flowing and natural. Fear wasn’t running the experience in that moment. I felt love, calm, wonder and a gratitude I still struggle to put into words.
It still makes me emotional. Partly because of the huge difference between how I often felt leaving pregnancy appointments and how I eventually experienced my birth.
I had a calm, positive vaginal twin birth. My body had done something I still look back on with wonder every day. And I want to share that story. Because if you’re expecting twins, you deserve to know these experiences exist too.
How I prepared: movement, breathing and yes, okra I stayed really active during pregnancy. Lots of walking, stairs, daily exercises and deep stretches. From 32 weeks I walked up stairs for about ten minutes every day. From 33 weeks I also did curb walking.
Every day I spent at least ten minutes in a deep squat, right down low, to stretch and relax my pelvic area. I looked up YouTube exercises for my pelvis, pelvic floor and perineum to prepare for a vaginal birth.
I also focused a lot on breathing and consciously relaxing. From 32 weeks I did perineal massage with a special perineal oil.
That preparation made me feel I was consciously working with my body every day. I made time for it. I wanted to pay attention to what my body was going to do and notice how movement, stretching and relaxing felt for me.
And I had a few daily rituals. I’m sharing them because they’re part of my story, as a description of what I personally did:
- Raspberry leaf tea: from 32 weeks I used about five teabags in a litre of water, with fresh pineapple juice and cranberry juice. I drank that daily.
- Okra water: every evening I put fresh okra in about 500 to 700 ml of water and left it in the fridge overnight. The next morning I drank the slimy water.
- Evening primrose oil: I took this in capsule form from 32 weeks.
Yep. Slimy okra water. Every morning. 🤣
My partner later said he saw that slippery okra everywhere during the birth. According to him, my girls were so slippery they almost slid out of his hands. They practically flew out! That comment is now part of how we remember the birth.
But let’s be clear: that’s our anecdote, not a proven effect of okra. I can’t say any of those things made my birth easier. I personally felt really positive about my preparation. That’s what I can tell you.
Trusting yourself and medical care can exist together I wanted to ask questions without feeling like I was being difficult. To know why something was recommended. To understand what the tests showed, what the alternatives were and the risks of intervening as well as waiting.
That’s what I wish for every pregnant woman. Room to think things through, get explanations and be involved in decisions about your body and babies. Especially when so much is coming at you that your head feels full.
I often felt doctors and gynaecologists thought I was a bit strange because I spoke with so much trust and stuck with my own feelings and wishes. Their reactions left me feeling I wasn’t really being taken seriously. But I wanted to keep asking questions and understand what I was saying yes to, and why.
What made it so special for me was that after I said certain things, something would happen that matched them. Each time, it felt like confirmation of what I already felt so strongly. Like saying my girls would come on their own before the planned induction, and then labour starting spontaneously. That deep trust meant something to me, even if others saw it differently.
Trusting myself didn’t mean the medical risks suddenly disappeared. Some complications can’t be felt. That’s exactly why check-ups matter. I wanted space for medical knowledge and my own feelings.
My labour began spontaneously and felt beautiful to me. Someone else may need an induction or a caesarean. Sometimes interventions save lives. For me, the value of this story is sharing my experience, not telling someone else to do the same.
Your body hasn’t failed If you’re reading this and your pregnancy or birth went differently, I want to say this very clearly: your body hasn’t failed.
A caesarean, an early birth, an induction or an experience nothing like you hoped for doesn’t make your story any less powerful. You don’t need to compare yourself to my deep bubble or spontaneous labour.
What I wish for you is trust, a voice in your care, safety and connection. To feel seen. To be able to ask questions. For your experience to matter, whatever medical choices are needed.
You’re carrying two lives at once. Two little hearts. Two little people you’ve never met, but already feel so much for.
You’re carrying two whole worlds. 🌻🤍
That’s why I want the beautiful stories to have a place alongside the scary ones. You don’t have to pretend there are no risks to make room for something positive. You can be worried and look forward to the birth. You can hope for an experience you’ll remember with love.
And afterwards? The twin adventure carried on My girls turned one on 26 August. Both have slept through the night since they were about two months old. I can literally count on one hand how many times I had to get up for them at night that first year.
From about six months they’ve slept from 7 pm to 8 am. Before that, I regularly had to wake them up in the morning because my breasts were so full. Lol. 🤣
During pregnancy, I’d mostly heard how hard that would be too. Two babies. Sleepless nights. Chaos. And of course twins bring a lot with them. But my experience also holds so much calm, joy and beautiful moments. I want to show that side.
For me, that positive experience connects to the trust I began to feel during pregnancy. I experienced it as manifestation. At the same time, babies are their own little people. How they sleep and how you’re doing isn’t just about what you think or believe. If your baby wakes a lot, it says nothing about how much trust or love you have.
Here on my blog I want to share more of our twin adventure: the early weeks, breastfeeding, sleep patterns, routines and life with two babies at once. Practical things that worked for us, questions I had myself and experiences I’m happy to share. Free, of course.
I don’t have a perfect method that gives every family the same outcome. I do have my own story. And I believe we can mean a lot to each other as mothers when we share honestly, funny bits and messy bits included.
This was the birth of Infinite and Unity as I lived it. Almost 24 hours, a whole lot of breathing, one seriously deep space and finally two girls instead of all those scenarios in my head.
One of the most beautiful experiences of my life.
So much love to you and your little miracles. 🩷🩷