Do you ever imagine that you don’t know this life and you’ve entered just a short clip of what your future you will be? You look around and you get clues about what your future entails? I do. Maybe I am more dramatic than most and this isn’t the norm but this blog is a transparent me and so I thought, why not share? Maybe others do the weird things that I do.? Maybe they don’t? Oh well! … So this evening I stopped for a moment and I looked around. My mind pretended I didn’t know this life. I was outside a house, standing on warm, hard pavers. Where am I?, I thought. I looked around for clues. I saw two pink bikes, multiple pairs of toddler shoes, two pairs of pink, flowered swimmers drying in the sun…I have twin girls I thought. Then tears of joy ran down my face. How lucky am I!? And now I live in a house, not an apartment…awesome! Next I continued into the house. I walked past my hungry dogs (whom I am just about to feed) and into the living room. I was now drawn towards a bookshelf and atop it a portrait sketch of a baby in my hand or perhaps, a baby angel. I see his name sketched and I notice his halo. And I think…oh that’s right I lose a precious baby boy…
And when I am not off in a daydream like this, this is what its like…every day. Yet most of the time its not so gentle or gradual. Its every moment of happiness, or every ray of sunshine I absorb…then circled around to the memory…oh, but I lost my baby boy. Its only when you sit down and think about it, that you realise how awfully exhausting this rollercoaster is. Its having a fun night with friends, then noticing the bassinet that they have returned that was supposed to be for your baby boy and you absolutely lose it; Its putting your baby girls to bed for the night and high-fiving your husband, then sitting on the couch and wishing you were nursing your baby boy; Its getting so excited with planning Christmas fun, then remembering that your newborn won’t be snuggled in your arms, nor passed around for cuddles by the Christmas tree; Its lying in bed at night and gazing out the side of your bed, visualising the bassinet and your baby boy that should be cooing next to you. And you wonder… when will I ever experience happiness again, without the almost instant realisation that I lost a child?
I know how blessed I am to have my baby girls. And I do not need any more reminders of this..I never needed to be reminded. This loss is not about my girls. And having them does not make the loss okay.
I also know how lucky I am to have the support I do. Even though friends are close and afar, I have people who try to understand and who show their love most days; this means the world to me. And had I not gone through the heartache that I have, I would not have connected with some amazing people who give me more strength every day.
I have not written in a while. I’ve been dissolving in twin life, uni commitments, grief, moving states, legal meetings for medical negligence, exercising for my mental health, human rights complaints, the maternal inquest, and planning to say goodbye to my beloved current school. I did not plan to write tonight. But it has been on my mind because of a lovely friend. I was recently telling her a twin story and she asked if I wrote about it and encouraged me to. This reminded me that I have neglected my writing and so I plan to get back into it. I guess tonight’s post doesn’t really have a flowing goal or purpose. I apologise for this. But it is a start. A start of beginning to share again. And I do aim for my next post to be much more uplifting. Specifically, I have a ‘Day in a life’ post planned very soon to feature on Growing Our Tribe’s page. I am looking forward to writing more.
Today is the final day of breast feeding week so I thought I’d share a little bit about my breast feeding journey.
With Dahli and India being born at 27 weeks and in NICU and SCU, for a very long time I was not able to try and breastfeed them. They were not strong enough and not ready, plus their CPAP would have gotten in the way anyway!
It was an hour after the girls birth that my midwife came and offered to help me hand express some milk. I was surprised that I was doing this so quickly. And even more surprised that she managed to help me get enough milk out for my girls first feed! (They were fed through a nasal gastric tube). I think it was about 1ml in total. From this lesson on, every three hours, day and night I would express. At first just with my hands, then with the expressing machine as a stimulator before hand expressing, and then solely on the expressing machine. I would set my alarm for every three hours and expressed day and night. At times I did it next to one of the girls in their humidicrib, sometimes downstairs in my hospital room and then at home when I was finally discharged. When I was allowed to hold the girls I would hold one of them for ‘breast cuddles’ to encourage my milk supply and then I would sit there next to them and express afterwards. At home I would flick through the millions of photos and videos of my baby girls to help me make lots of milk. And I made a hell of a lot. It’s amazing what our bodies can do! I was expressing so much milk, litres a day. The hospital had to freeze some and I got to freeze some at home when they couldn’t fit anymore in their freezer.
The girls first breast feeding practice was sucking my milk off a cotton tip. Soooo cute and fascinating. And then at around 31 weeks (1 month old), India was off the CPAP and had her first proper breast feeding practice. She was 1377g this day and it was quite remarkable that she managed a little feed at this stage. I still remember how excited and proud I was. She got quite the surprise with how much milk came out, I remember she threw up on me and herself a few times! 🤣 For a long time we would continue this breast feeding practice as the nurse tube fed her my EBM.
Dahli didn’t get to start practicing breastfeeding until a little while longer (almost 35 weeks) because she she still needed the breathing support. But finally while on high flow, she got her first practice. Dahli latched straight away and then screwed her face up. She was either shocked or unsure of the taste and then she fell asleep on me as I stared at her beautiful face that after almost three months, I could finally see properly. Now both girls were off CPAP and able to practise sucking I was able to start tandem feeding. This was super exciting and a huge moment for me. When I learnt I was having twins this was one of the first things I thought about. The twin feeding pillow was no longer just for cuddles, but for actually feeding my babies!
tandem while girls are tube fed
The tandem feeding journey was filled with joy and anxiety, proud and happy tears and sad, disappointed tears. It had far more unsuccessful experiences than successful and it was heartbreaking. Once the girls were in SCU the focus became on getting them to full feeds so that they could finally graduate and go home. I was determined to breast feed. I would breastfeed them and then top them up with my EBM. It was an intense juggling act made easier when my husband was there. It also brought up lots of feelings of incompetency as nurses had to help feed because tandem was not working and they were on the same schedule. I longed to get them home and focus on breastfeeding in the comfort of our own home. But in hospital I was only allowed to practice with them every alternate feed. And then when we could see that the bottle was the fastest route home, that’s what mattered most.
SCU tandem success!
SCU tandem success!
When we finally got home the juggling act continued but with much less anxiety and stress. On and on for months. I eventually decided to just do breast feeds for bonding and supply purposes because they just couldn’t get a full feed. So I learnt a way to express while bottle feeding them simultaneously. And if one bubba wanted a little settling or mummy time, I’d offer them my breast. One of my fondest memories of this time was having them both on me in the bathtub and them both fighting over the same nipple 🤣
bath time boobie bonding
Eventually the girls weren’t really interested in my breast. They wanted the bottle of EBM and eventually formula top ups when my supply started to run low and not be enough for the girls. A combination of their growing appetite and less time to express.
I expressed until the girls were 9 months old. My machine wasn’t really cutting it any more, my girls were now on solids and my spare time was spent making them solid food! If I tried expressing as I bottle fed them, they would pull out the tubing! And if I tried expressing as they played, their attention span would dwindle…along with my supply. So I weaned my boobies and put the expressing machine in storage….and I burnt my god damn expressing bras! 🤣 From then on the girls were on homemade, delicious solids and organic formula. I was happy that I had gotten them to this stage, although mummy guilt was also very much present.
So that’s my breastfeeding journey! I hoped Reuben to be a more successful breastfeeding story. My supply did actually come in and I was back to expressing again. This colostrum/milk was a gift to the girls from Reuben (which came at a good time as they were very sick). This was an extremely hard and emotional thing to do. I tried to just zone out and not think about what I was doing and why I had to do it. In the end I ended up needing help to make my supply go away and after a few weeks, I got tablets to help stop it.
Everyone’s breastfeeding journey is different and I believe that all mummy’s make the decision that is best for them and their babies. I have moved on from the sadness and guilt I felt from my unexpected breastfeeding experience. I now know that I was a NICU mummy rockstar and I did absolutely everything I could do to get my bubba’s their mummy’s milk (including the multiple batches of lactation cookies, nighttime googling of lactation foods (hello oats!), many cups of lactation tea and finally motilium to help boost supply!).
I was asked recently if I have experienced any joy since Reuben’s passing. I was a little confused by the question but it had quite a simple answer: yes. And then the question got me thinking, perhaps there are people who go through similar trauma and loss and for a very long time, they will not experience real joy. But me, I receive joy every day. At first the joy came with guilt. But now most of the time I am able to be present in the joy and not feel bad about it. The joy I am of course talking about is my precious, little warrior princesses Dahli and India. And I think it helpful and the perfect time to write a post about the joy they have been bringing me daily.
We are so grateful everyday to have been blessed with twins. It truely is double the love.
Its double the giggles, double the smiles, double the milestones, double the poo…double everything really and it is absolutely amazing. I feel that I was destined for this role. It feels natural, it is challenging at times but it is all that I know and I love it every single day. India and Dahli are now 18 months old (15 months corrected). This corrected business means that developmentally, this is where they are. I am not completely sure, but I think by the time they are around three, we can let the whole ‘corrected thing’ go a little.
So lately, these little girls have been making us laugh and smile and really been holding our whole world together. Let’s talk about some of these things that make me feel so grateful and happy every day.
Twin talk really started when the girls were in NICU. I remember feeling so proud yet devastatingly disappointed and upset that the nurses heard it first. One night the girls began calling out and responding to each other in their humicribs from opposite sides of their room. The nurses were telling me how cute and yet how naughty they were chatting all night long. Hehe. Such cheeky girls from the very beginning! It wasn’t long though until I heard it for myself. The video below shows one of my twin cuddles with the girls where they sound like little lambs chatting away. Total heart melters.
Today their twin talk has changed a lot. No longer do they speak in their little lamb prem voices, but they babble expressively in an undecipherable language. Usually one takes the lead and talks the most and the other responds here and there. A few days ago, India was sharing her sultanas with Dahli and telling her to say ‘ta’. Tonight in the bath they were both cuddling their bubbas and India let hers go ‘bubba’?! Dahli found India’s bubba and kindly gave it back to her. Sometimes I look at them having their conversations in disbelief. When did they get so clever?! I have been trying to get their conversations on video for a while now but they stop as soon as I try! So I did my best.
So I already told a little story above about India sharing her sultanas and there are a quite a few other sharing moments. They often like to pass food to one another in their highchairs or steal from one another trays. Haha. Apart from food, the girls have security bunnies and security lambies. Lately if Dahli has been getting upset, India has found her dummy and given it to her and also given her the lambie or bunny that she was holding. Soooo cute! One time she instantly got upset and wanted her bunny back though! Most of the time though, the girls don’t like to share. India is the boss at the moment and she wants everything. Dahli is adapting and beginning to not get bothered if India takes her toys…but her tolerance depends on how tired she is.
As the girls were born so premature, I had in my mind that they would walk at 15 months corrected. And guess what! I was right!! The anxiety has always been there about milestones-smiling, rolling, sitting, crawling…would they ever get there? And if so, when?? Walking seems like for now, the final milestone and they have stood up to the ‘statistics’, toddling their way into a whole new phase, completely unaware of the trauma they experienced in the first few months of their lives and oblivious to the fact that they are mummy and daddy’s amazing little miracles…suddenly getting too big too fast! I could just sit and watch them toddle around all day, it still takes my breath away the pride I feel.
India’s joy when Dahli came home from hospital..and there were balloons!
Dahli’s warrior strength-smashing her head through her drum!
Kissing and cuddling me and each other
Oh my gosh this has to be one of the best things about twins. Double the affection! Dahli and India can be so kind to each other. Cuddling and kissing and laying on one another. At the moment they cuddle and kiss on cue…its unbelievably cute! And then at other times one tries to ride the other without permission which of course ends in screaming and mummy and daddy trying not to laugh. The first time I ever showed the girls Reuben’s little urn, they both kissed it. So sweet and in-tune. From that day, each time I put the girls to bed I say goodnight to the girls and to Reuben and they all get a little kiss (at the moment Reuben’s urn is on a little shelf in the girl’s room so that he can be with his sisters). Sometimes I get his urn down, and without fail India always goes in to kiss him.
The girls were never really cuddly, loving babies when they were littler. I always wondered if its because they spent their first three months of their lives in an isolette or hospital cot, away from one another and only having one or two long cuddles a day. It could have been that or perhaps just their personalities. It made me sad though that when they got wriggly they wouldn’t want to have many cuddles. But literally, since the day Reuben was born they have been the most cuddly babies ever. They always want me and are always up for a cuddle, snuggle or kiss. It is absolute bliss.
Already we are having to be careful of what we say because we have double the chance of being mimicked. Its funny the things the girls start to say that we don’t even realise we must say a lot. India’s favourite is ‘uh oh’! At the moment. And the other day Dahli actually mimicked daddy’s ‘f*#! that!’ Haha. I feel like they are trying to show each other how clever they are with their words at the moment.
This one is hilarious. The girls absolutely love our dogs Yogi (happy and energetic 5 year old boarder collie) and Bongo (old and cranky 13 Year old Maltese Poodle). They love to mimic them, pat them, chase them and having Yogi drag them along by their socks! The girls go under their highchairs after they have eaten and help eat up the scraps they dropped with the doggies. They also like to get down on their tummies and pick the food up from the floor in their mouths just like their big brothers. Hehehe. Great for the immunity no doubt. And a favourite toy when playing outside is the dog bowls (I know…disgusting but these girls can just be too quick for me!). They quite like to clang them together and to sit in them (their little bottoms sit quite perfectly inside the bowls..it actually looks like they are trying to go potty!). I look forward to watching their doggy bonds continuing to grow.
My baby girls love to come and sit with me when I do my makeup. They pull everything out of my makeup bag and put it all back in. Although yesterday I had taken my ugg boots off and they managed to put most of the contents in them which I hadn’t realised until they were napping and I tried to put my uggs on. Sometimes I put a little lip gloss on them and they get so serious about it, watching as I do their sister and leaning forward ready for their lips to be painted too. hehe.
These little, big things and so many more twin antics are my daily dose of joy. But grief is weird. It is always there, it never goes away. Its like this constant bubble that you are living inside from which you do your best to live, to love, to laugh, to carry on with life. All the while knowing that as shit as this grief bubble is; as much as you wish everyday that you could wake up from this nightmare and bring your baby back, You are still so blessed, you are still so loved and you are a god damn, freaking Warrior Queen.
Today was a day I have been anxiously waiting for. A day that I dreaded and yet a day that I knew needed to come. It was time to once again attempt to advocate for myself and for my baby boy Reuben, this time with the words I had been preparing for quite a while now. This morning my husband and I attended our 6 week post birth appointment at the hospital.
I walked into our appointment this morning with anxiety riddling my body: from my cloudy, irritated brain and watery strong-willed eyes, to the the butterflies in the tips of my fingers and stomach, right down to my hesitant, fearful feet. As my name was called, I instinctively I knew I just needed to breathe and it would be okay. Well as okay as such a thing could be. Once in the sterile room, I pulled out my prepared typed sheet of questions, as ready as I could be to finally verbalise these questions that have circled my mind since the awful day that I lost my baby boy.
At first we met with a lovely and compassionate female doctor who gave us results to Reuben’s postpartum and to the many blood and placenta tests. This gave us some answers. She also looked at the placenta results from the twin’s pregnancy and we discovered the same issues with the girl’s placenta that my doctor had never disclosed to me. To say I was angry and upset about this is an understatement. Don’t I deserve to get the results about my own body and own pregnancy? Aren’t I entitled to this even if you think I wouldn’t understand? Because these results would have informed future pregnancies, Reubens pregnancy. All I was ever told was “sometimes we don’t know why these things happen”. The paperwork I was given last year to make a complaint about this doctor will finally be getting filled in and sent. No longer will I feel afraid and guilty about affecting him and his career. This information was the final straw and has informed this next step that I will be taking for Dahli, India, Reuben and the future mothers and babies that land themselves in his care.
After we were taken through these results this doctor did her best to answer as many questions as she could. She was very sorry, kind and patient and at times understandably nervous and unable to answer my questions. She also used Reuben’s name—a million brownie points for her. I was determined not to be rushed through and pushed out the door of this appointment. This was our time and we deserved all the time in the world until all our questions were answered and we felt we had received what we had came for. This of course led to the addition of another doctor, the director of specialist outpatients.
This doctor’s speech was very slow and his uncertainty was filled with many umms and errs. When it seemed like he was squashing me and my questions I pushed and fired back. When he was happy with his answers, I pressured and wanted more. Right now I feel pride for how strong I was and amazed at the confidence I found to stand up for my baby boy. We were of course told things that should have been done and about a wonderful new program that will be taking place to avoid these things…all the while I thought blah blah, fucking blah (excuse the angry cursing please) and when there was a pause I would remind him…”Yes but I did not get this”….”Yes but its too late, my baby is dead”…”so you’re telling me that if a high risk pregnancy came in tomorrow you wouldn’t refer them on to the high risk clinic?” I did not filter my thoughts, I did not worry that I might offend or upset someone. I needed to show these medical professionals how wrong this all is. I needed them to know how much I love my son and how deep this grief goes. I needed them to know that they did not do enough and that they made me feel helpless, hopeless and unheard. I used my words. I used my heart. I used my stubborn spirit to do all that I could in honour of my son.
I knew we wouldn’t remember all that happened in this appointment and so I supplied the doctors with a copy of my questions and they will be replying to them in email as well. There is one thing I do remember right now that made me feel kind of relieved in a way. And that is that I finally got to say something that has been burning a hole in my heart for a very long time. I told these doctors that I am so disappointed and upset that I was never taken seriously. I wasn’t taken seriously with the girls and I nearly lost them. I wasn’t taken seriously with Reuben and now I did lose him. These medical professionals need to learn to listen to mums because sometimes, well actually not sometimes, I honestly believe that always, a mum’s intuition knows best.
Another moment of the appointment that sticks with me is that the doctors went on to tell us what usually happens with these appointments (the ones mum’s who lose their babies have). I learnt that usually we should have an appointment a few weeks after to ask questions and then again at six weeks to answer any questions that may have been unanswerable at that early stage. When I was told this I laid my heart out there and I said “You know I never got a phone call about a follow up appointment. I had to make this appointment. It was like ‘well you gave birth but your baby died so you don’t deserve an appointment’…that’s what it felt like”. Its not really the words that I said that stick with me so much as the sad and regretful faces that I saw on these doctors. It is my hope that no other mum at this hospital, in this situation is made to feel this way because I have made the doctors totally aware of how shit that is and how awful it feels.
The unanswerable questions may or may not be answered in the next appointment we have or the email that should eventually be sent. But one thing that has put me a little at ease is that when I asked the question ” I don’t understand what more I could have done…my referral said high-risk…I verbalised regularly in my first appointment that I am/was high risk….what else could I have done?…” the answer was ‘nothing. You did everything you could’.
So these medical professionals now know my thoughts. They know that I believe that my son could have been saved. They know that my son was living and healthy one minute and gone the next. They know that things which should have been expedited were not and will now begin the search and cover their bums to explain why my sons life or death situation was not a priority. They know that I have the paperwork to prove that my referral was in fact high-risk and that I should have been liased with and most likely referred to the high risk clinic. They understand that I will not be pushed over and this awful situation will not be swept under the rug. I have fought and I will continue to fight until I am satisfied with the answers that we receive. This is the least that I can do to honour my baby boy.
Having no control is hard. I had no control when my baby girls were born and to fill this hole I expressed breast milk like a mad woman. It was all that I could do. This time I had no control yet again. And its a pretty helpless and hopeless feeling that all I have been able to do for my baby boy is write him poems, plan his funeral, order his urn, be strong for his big sisters and fight for answers. I know nothing will fix this. Nothing will bring him back or mend the huge, gaping hole in my heart. But this appointment was another something. It was something to help me through the grieving process. It was something to help me honour my baby boy. It was something to be in control of. It was something to make me feel strong, fearless and powerful – much like the warrior women that I consider my baby girls to be.
Thank you so much for the ongoing support. Apologies for the possible many spelling and grammar mistakes…it seems a couple of glasses of wine help to get my creative juices flowing.
Every day I wake up and I think of you. Throughout the night, as I stir, I rub what used to be your home. Some mornings I wake from dreams of you and your big sisters and everything feels lighter. Other mornings my body doesn’t want to move and my mind races through a million unhelpful, yet necessary thoughts. People tell me you are always with me and with every ounce of my being I want to believe this. In this moment as I have began typing, I am beginning to see that perhaps it is true, you are here.
Right now your here in a way that hurts me so bad that I feel like I am choking and there is a knife in my heart. Yet this morning you were with me in a way that floated me to my baby girl’s room and gave me the sense that everything is going to be alright. You were with me in the car today as I drove myself to an appointment, feeling reassured and noting that everything that I am right now and that I will be, is a part of you just as you are a part of me. You were with me at lunchtime today when I finally made the decision that I actually do need to care for this body, if not for me, for you and Dahli and India. I can not let what happened make me weak and a bad role model for my baby girls and I must not lose myself as well. If I were to lose myself then I will have lost you completely. You need me to be strong. You need me to take care of myself and you’re guiding me as I do this for you, for my girls, for my husband and for me.
The things I do every day, the things I say, the emotions I feel, you have led me to them all. I can not hold you, but I can feel you. I can not see you, but I am beginning to believe that you can see me. I can not smell you, but I can talk to you. You have given me signs and I patiently await for more. It is not enough. It will never be enough. But it is something. And right now, in this uncharted territory, something is all that I can hope for.
Fly high my sweet finch, and don’t forget to visit your mummy.
I lost Reuben at 22 weeks. One more week and they would have tried to save him. But at 22 weeks my baby’s definition -insert dr speech marks here – was “not-viable”. I fought for him, but it wasn’t enough. They said they would check his weight and if he was big enough they would try and save him. But it was too late. While waiting for this ultrasound to check his weight, I went in to labour. He was born about 15 minutes after the ultrasound was planned. A million questions go around and around in my head every day. Some far too raw for me to have the strength say, let alone write down. But here are 11. 11 questions that may never be answered. But 11 questions that I will be asking when I finally have my follow up specialist appointment (an appointment I had to chase up by the way. No planned 6 week appointment for me unless I actually pushed for it).
So here are just 11 questions that burn a hole in my heart daily:
Would have Reuben been in pain when he passed away?
I went private with my twins and it was a waste of money as I didn’t get the care I needed and my Dr was complacent and in my eyes, a reason my girls came so premature. So this time I went public. I had learnt that public is where NICU is and all the resources for preterm birth. But when I was admitted this time, there was a lot of waiting around. Waiting for a Dr, waiting for my ultrasound, waiting for my pessaries, waiting for my cannula and antibiotics. Realistically, had I not have had to do all this waiting (ie if I had a private Dr) could have my baby boy survived?
Why was I and my high risk pregnancy referral not taken seriously? Why was I not a part of the high risk program? The program I learnt about after it was too late. Especially as not only was I a ‘high risk’ pregnancy, but I also fell pregnant in under a year after having twins a 27 weeks.
Why did my body let my perfectly healthy baby boy go? Why did I go into preterm labor again?
What were the results to the 10+ blood tests I was tortured for after everything? It’s been 6 weeks and I’ve been told nothing.
Is there something I could have done to have stopped this happening? Or something I might have done that caused it?
Did falling pregnant so soon after the twins have anything to do with why this happened?
Is it safe for me to have another baby?
My drs appointment was changed to a week later: The Thursday after I gave birth. If I had attended this appointment at the original time (the week before), is it possible that you could have seen something? And if so, could we have done something to save my baby boy?
Whatever is wrong with my body, is this something that I could pass on to my girls? Could they have the same problems that I have?
Why did I by some miracle fall pregnant naturally, if it was just going to be taken away from me? (Okay, I won’t ask this one of the drs but I think about it all the time).
These are hard hitting questions. And I know some won’t have answers right now or maybe ever. However, asking these questions is going to be part of my healing journey. It’s going to be extremely hard. But I’m goingto do it. If I don’t, I will regret it. I know none of these questions will ever bring Reuben back but I need to at least try and get some answers. I need to ask these questions along with many others, to help me move forward, to grow stronger and to heal.
I miss you every day Reuben. Sometimes, in a blissful moment, I forget that all of this has happened and you are still here. But then I remember and it breaks my heart all over again. I love you so much.
Writing is also part of my healing process. I write a lot. Some things I share, some things I don’t. I was not sure if I would share this piece. But then I began to think, if there is just the slightest chance that this could help someone else, then why not? People who don’t want to read this, won’t. People that want to or need to, hopefully will. I may never know, but it this could help someone who has gone through, is going through or will go through the trauma, heartbreak and loss that I have. I have had many people thank me for being so open and vulnerable with my journey. And also some other amazing angel mums who have reached out. I haven’t shared everything. Just when the time comes and I feel ready, I have shared parts of my journey and I know already, that I have helped others. I find comfort in this. Helping others also helps the healing process.
Running away to Fiji for a bit was actually my husband’s idea. He is a problem solver and wants so bad to fix what has happened. And although we are both coming to terms with the fact that this can not be fixed, that things will never be the same and we need to grow to accept and live in the new normal, Fiji was just what we needed.
We had many people help us to get to Fiji: financially; support to help us organise it so fast; minding our dogs; helpful advice and even cooking snacks that were perfect for the girls on the plane. We are forever grateful. Thank you.
waiting for our plane
India’s first plane ride
Dahli’s first plane ride
India and Dahli were the movie stars of Fiji. I knew that the Fijians love children, but I didn’t realise just how much! In Australia, maybe every fourth or fifth person stops me when I have the girls asking, “twins?” But in Fiji, it was absolutely everyone. From toddlers to the elderly. Even young men, who is Australia would have no interest in babies! Everywhere it was, “Bula! Twins?” and then the many questions and clucking and cooing that followed. The girls loved it and I think they may have even said Bula themselves. I was trying so hard to teach them! Not only did the Fijian’s love to look and touch and kiss our babies, but they also kept stealing them.
Lovely baby stealers
Plenty of picnics
Nannies are super sweet, amazing with children and really cheap in Fiji! We didn’t plan to use one really but by the second last day, both my husband and I were physically exhausted! Another afternoon of swimming with the girls was not going to be possible for either of us. So we booked a nanny for both of the girls and finally, we got some time to ourselves. We sat by the pool for two hours, had a mocktail and even ate some tacos which we didn’t have to rush and stuff down our throats as the girls pointed and screamed that they wanted them. It was pretty blissful. And we knew the girls were in such safe and loving hands.
India at kids club
Fighting for the slide
Kids club fun
Although beautiful, my gosh Fiji is so expensive! I would say even more so than Australia. I guess because it is a resort area they can charge what they want. I had a local on the plane suggest going on an island tour. But this was going to set us back over $400 and also we couldn’t see how on earth the girls would handle a whole day of island tripping (from experience without twins, we already knew it was exhausting). However, we did go for a stroll one evening by the marina and a local managed to reel me in and suggest a half-day tour that’s perfect for families that we could go on for just $20FJD…there had to be a catch, right? He admitted there was. So fast forward to the following day we hopped on a bus to another resort and sat through a presentation where a lovely man tried to sell us a new amazing ‘time-share’ where we can go anywhere in the world! Twins crawling everywhere, crunching rice crisps and making a hell of a mess of their immaculate presentation room, while we had to answer a few questions and listen to a sales pitch…but I wasn’t having any of it. I just wanted our cruise. So as soon as the chance came up, I said no. No no no, this is not for us. We are spontaneous people. We can’t be tied to this for life. Luke joined in on my ‘no no no parade’ and so the salesman didn’t really know what to do. I think we stayed for about 40 minutes of the 90 minute presentation when I left to change a nappy. Luke finished up with salesman and we left. We explored their resort and then hopped back on the bus. So for sitting through 40 minutes of a sales pitch and having a lovely walk throughout their oasis, we got a $400+ cruise for 20FJD. This cruise included all transfers, food, alcohol/beverages, a finding nemo tour and submarine ride (which we chose not to do) as well as a nanny for the girls. It was absolutely amazing. In my eyes, it was the best day we had. It was my happiest day since we lost baby Reuben.
Our lovely island set up
Twins are sleeping!
Dahli loved the bean bags
Our South Pacific Island Nanny
Time to relax
Babies sleeping in pram!
As lovely as getting away and having some special family time together was, it was also weird. We shouldn’t have been in Fiji. And it was surreal to be there. We should have been at work. The girls having fun at daycare. I should not have been drinking alcohol or many of the foods I ate. And we definitely shouldn’t have been spending all the money as we needed to keep saving for my mum bus and for when we became a family of 5. I kept telling Reuben that I wanted to give Fiji away. I apologised to him that we were in Fiji and promised him that all I ever wanted was him. For his sisters to have a baby brother. For us to be happy at home, awaiting his safe arrival. I dreamt of him and I have since. I hope he stays in my dreams forever.
sunset fish and veg
Riding on daddy
Rainy day pamper session
The girls loved the comfy beds
Relaxing with Daddy
I took lots of photos and videos of our holiday. I want to remember our very first holiday in memory of Reuben. And we plan to do something every year around his birthday (although not as extravagant as Fiji) because we want to honour his memory. We want his sisters to know about him. I am trying my hardest be be strong and live a happy life in honour of Reuben and for our precious baby girls. I remember a quote that resonated with me so much when the girls were in NICU, and even more so now “you don’t know how strong you are until being strong is your only choice”. I don’t know that I am ‘strong’ but in this moment, I am doing my best. Some days my strength is my tears; some days its me getting out of bed; sometimes it me playing and laughing with the girls; some days its making myself eat a healthy meal; sometimes its writing to help me heal; sometimes its being vulnerable; often its pouring all my love into my baby girls and my husband; its admitting that I am not okay and reaching out to others; at times its keeping myself busy with a never ending list of to dos, and some days its catching up with friends. Strength comes in many forms and daily, I am slowly finding mine.
swimming with daddy
hanging on the balcony
dinner on the marina
So thank you Fiji. Although I am finding it extremely hard coming back to the ‘real world’, something has shifted. We are slowly moving forward as much as I wish we could rewind and somehow fix it all. Fiji was special. Just like our precious baby boy. It holds a special place in my heart, somewhere in there along with our guardian angel, Reuben Luke.