I became a Mother during a pandemic, and in turn a person that nobody knows

It is a little over a year that the boarders between the US an UK closed, coinciding with the news that I was pregnant with twins. They say ignorance is bliss; to which I can fully attest to, as I was about to embark on the loneliest journey I had ever faced. 

We were not aware I was carrying twins until 8 weeks in, a second ultrasounds showing two little heartbeats flickering away. Like so many other women at this time, I was attending all my appointments alone as the pandemic put a stop to partners attending such events. I was initially congratulated but the joy of seeing such a sight was quickly tarnished as my sonographer said she couldn’t see a separating membrane between the two babies. The first of many, many blows. I was referred to Maternal Fetal Medicine for a clearer diagnosis with a follow up scan booked for the following week.

I was carrying Monoamniotic twins, a rare and extremely high risk pregnancy with, mostly, negative outcomes. The twins were to share both a placenta and just one amniotic sac; giving way the inevitable outcome of entangled umbilical cords which could at any moment end their journey earthside. My husband was brought into the conversation with the OBGYN via Zoom to discuss our options, one being to terminate the pregnancy as the chances of them making it was slim. We were given 24 hours to make a decision. We discussed the various outcomes, we cried and we asked why us. I never had a moments doubt that I would continue the pregnancy.

What followed was a pregnancy fraught with worry and anxiety. As we moved from week to week, under the watchful eye of the wonderful Doctors at NYC’s MFM group, we edged ever closer to a due date. Our initial goal was 24 weeks; at 24 weeks a baby is ‘viable’, their chances are small but there is a chance. Each day is a milestone when carrying Monomono twins, each kick is a reminder that their hearts are still beating.

We knew from the off that for the best chance of survival I would need to move into the hospital at around 26 weeks in order to have the babies monitored for drops in heart rate. This would allow us to ‘get out of dodge’, as my Doctor would say, when the moment arose. Again, until I was admitted, I survived the pregnancy in blissful ignorance of what this really meant.

An inpatient stay is never going to be easy, especially not for someone who has averaged 20,000 steps per day for her whole pregnancy but doing it through a pandemic, without friends to lift your spirits, parents to hold you hand, space to wander the halls and speak to other expectant Mums…some of those days were very dark.

After 6 long weeks, 3 false starts and moments of sheer terror the boys arrived at 32 weeks and 1 day…as planned. We, they, us were the lucky ones.

Having a newborn is isolating in itself, having a newborn in the NICU for the foreseeable is indescribable. During these times is when you have loved ones to lean on, those you trust the most to bare some of your heavy load. But with a travel ban still in place, we were to face, what turned into 7 soul searching weeks, alone.

We moved to New York to pursue career opportunities, we were and still are incredibly privileged; with all the paraphernalia of 21st living at our fingertips but missing the one thing we really needed, family and friends.

They say that the birth of a child is also the birth of a mother; which is quite literal. I was now a Mother, but the only person who had witnessed this transformation was my Husband. This new person I have become, nobody knows. After nearly 6 months I realised that I am hesitant to call myself a Mother, as I don’t strictly feel like one. How do you wear a new identity when you are the only one who is seeing it?

I am not alone in the factual isolation of giving birth during this pandemic, countless women have shared their journey, even campaigned for better treatment and care. For me, the pregnancy, birth and our hospital stay is buried deep within me, something that will no doubt rear it’s ugly head from time to time. It is the loneliness of Motherhood that has produced a dull ache that tires my bones and makes even the brightest of days seem weary. 

Every milestone that my boys hit, is seen mostly just by me. Their changing sounds, broadening smiles and relentless needs are bittersweet and a constant reminder of our new reality. With normalcy on the horizon thanks to the roll out of vaccines, I am brightened by plans to take the boys ‘home’; even writing the words home brings stinging tears to my oh so tired eyes.

I have come to realise that one of the most damning aspects of this pandemic is the curtailing to intamcy. Families have been separated, human connections have been lost and in the case of new mothers, we are lionesses, retracted and coiled protecting our young, without our heard behind us to warn off danger. So naturally, we are on high alert, and I am acutely aware that my desire to show off my Sons, to let the world near them when the time comes could be my biggest challenge yet. I carried them, I kept them safe, I am the food source, I am their comfort blanket…the village that it apparently takes to raise a child is now a mere fairytale and I am the all encompassing protector. How do we learn to allow intimacy back into our lives after such isolation?

Postnatal care is a disgrace. We are left stranded in a sea of weak pelvic floors, scarred skin and raging hormones. A strong indictor for infant health is social support,  with brain development and social skills being linked to interaction and community. Since the pandemic hit, there has been a 5% rise in perinatal depression, a number I would fathom a guess is in fact much higher, with new mothers afraid to ever say they are struggling.

There are limited blessings to this reality but my faith in believing nothing is sent to us we cannot survive is never stronger. I have miracle babies, who shouldn’t of made it, but they did. Each smile, each milestone, each increasing ounce of them is a reminder that I was chosen to guide these boys into the brave new world ahead of us. 

I am unsure of how I will adapt to post pandemic life, for I am changed. We are all changed. If nothing else may we never lose our need for community, family and human connection. Our ability to communicate our love for one another should never be left unsaid for we never know when simple privileges can we taken from us.