My little bunnies fought for their lives
Natalie Bowen, 30, Doncaster
My partner Anton, then 30, stared at me in shock and I saw his face drain of colour. ‘You’re expecting twins,’ the sonographer grinned. ‘O-o-oh my god,’ Anton gasped, digesting the news.
But a huge smile spread across my face.
It was November 2021, I was seven weeks pregnant and we’d gone for an early scan and been given a big surprise.
Double trouble!
‘I can’t wait to tell Mum,’ I giggled as I squeezed Anton’s hand.
We’d been together a year after meeting at work.
I’d always loved the idea of having twins.
Two little heads to kiss, four hands to hold. Matching outfits. That magical, unbreakable bond. ‘I can’t wait,’ I told Anton later.
Now the shock had worn off, he was excited too.
‘I’m going to be a dad of two,’ he smiled.
That week, both the nans-to-be cried happy tears when we announced our news.
Over the next months, in between working as a deputy manager in hospitality, I prepared for our special deliveries.
Painting the nursery pale blue with dogs and clouds, buying two cots.
My bump was tiny, though, you wouldn’t even know I was expecting twins.
And then one night in March 2022, I was 28 weeks gone when I woke in the night for the loo.
‘Are you awake?’ I called out in a panic to Anton when I saw bright red blood.
Within minutes he’d helped me into the car and was driving me to Doncaster Royal Infirmary.
There, midwives hooked me up to machines to check my babies’ heartbeats.
My body relaxed when I heard the rhythmic thuds.
‘Everything’s OK,’ a nurse reassured, smiling.
To be safe, I was kept in for eight days, before being discharged on Mother’s Day weekend.
Only, within days, I was back in hospital with a throbbing pain in my back.
Doctors started running tests, but as I stood up, I felt a huge gush of blood.
‘It’s everywhere,’ I sobbed as a midwife hit the emergency button.
My room was quickly swamped with doctors, midwives and nurses.
‘Your placenta has separated from your uterus, the babies
are at risk,’ one said as I was wheeled up to the delivery suite for an emergency caesarean.
I was only 29 weeks pregnant.
It happened so fast. Too poorly to stay conscious, I was put under general anaesthetic while Anton waited outside.
My last thought before I drifted into a deep sleep was whether my babies would survive.
At 6pm that day I woke up
