Something in the water?!
Nothing prepared me for the secret my bump was hiding – and what lay ahead...
Nervously, I squeezed my husband Sandy’s hand as my body was rocked by a contraction.
I panted through the pain, resting my other hand on my swollen stomach.
It was 17 January 1972 and my first pregnancy – but I didn’t feel the excited flutter of most first-time mums.
See, my baby wasn’t due for another nine weeks.
I’d been diagnosed with pre-eclampsia, and gone into premature spontaneous labour.
Both me and Sandy, 32, knew the chances of our baby surviving were slim.
He held my hand as I panted through a second agonising contraction.
‘You’re doing great, nearly there,’ he cheered.
Then he stayed in the corridor while I was wheeled into the delivery room.
A midwife clutched my hand as I was seized by another contraction.
Suddenly a highpitched squeal cut through the air.
My baby boy!
I couldn’t believe it. I collapsed back on to the delivery bed, exhausted yet relieved.
‘Hold on,’ the doctor cried. ‘I think there might be another one,’
Before I had time to
respond, I was pushing again. Three minutes later, a second scream filled the room. Twins! I was shocked. Back then, scans hadn’t been available, so Sandy and I had no idea.
Our boys were tiny, weighing 3lb and 4lb.
They were whisked away into an incubator, where they could grow stronger.
I was overjoyed, but terrified. ‘How will we cope with two babies!’ I worried.
‘I’ll help with feeds and baths,’ Sandy promised.
We named them Mike and Ken.
A long seven weeks later, I finally had both boys home.
‘I’ll take one,’ Sandy offered each morning, pushing
his breakfast aside.
He’d always make time to help with morning feeds, before heading to work as an engineer.
He even popped back during his lunch break.
But while he was at work, I still struggled with everyday challenges.
Wrestling my twin buggy through too-small shop doorways.
During the weekly shop, I’d have to push around two trolleys, because they only had one child seat.
And when the boys started learning to walk, things only got harder.
I tried to keep them in hand by slipping them both into a child’s harness when we went out.
But without fail, when we’d pass a lamppost they’d dash in opposite directions.
I’d be left to untangle a mass of harnesses and limbs. With no nearby relatives to help, I felt exhausted and isolated.
‘Chasing after two sons is tough,’ I’d explain to nurses.
‘Don’t be so negative, you’re twice blessed,’ they’d tut back.
So Sandy and I simply muddled through.
In 1976, a new neighbour Marleen moved in down the street.
By now, I’d given birth to a third son – Ronnie, 2 – and the twins were 4.
I was over the moon when I found out Marleen had twin girls.
I’d never met anyone else with twins.
It was such a relief to speak to someone who understood.
And it got me thinking about how good it’d be to share experiences with other mums of twins.
When I looked into it, there was nothing like that in Edinburgh – or even Scotland!
‘Why don’t we set up our own group?’ I suggested to Marleen.
‘We can call it the Double Trouble Club,’ she grinned.
In September 1976, we made a few phone calls and invited six ‘twin mums’ to mine.
At 8pm, after all our twins had been left with dads or babysitters, we gathered around a pot of tea.
We talked about everything from breastfeeding to getting twins to sleep in the same room.
It was such a success we decided to hold monthly meetings – even featuring guest speakers.
Four years later, our group was 40 members strong, and the meetings moved to the church hall.
By then, my boys were growing up and I was training as a health visitor.
The time had come for me to pass the group on to the next generation of mothers.
As the years passed, I never forgot the Double Trouble Club and was pleased to know it was still going, helping generation after generation of twin mums.
And then, in September 2006, an e-mail appeared in my inbox.
We’d like to invite you to dinner to celebrate the 30th anniversary of the Edinburgh & Lothians Twins & Multiples Club, it read.
I felt a swell of pride.
The name had changed, but it was the Double Trouble Club.
Unable to attend the dinner, my twin boys Mike and Ken, then 34, went in my place.
But a decade later, I joined the 40th-anniversary celebrations in the Royal Botanic Garden, Edinburgh.
‘Thank you so much for setting it up,’ mums juggling two toddlers gushed when they met me.
As mums of twins and multiples, we’ve all been twice, triple or even quadruple blessed.
I hope the group will continue helping mums like me for many years to come.
Raising twins isn’t like it was in the 70s, so much has changed.
But one thing’s for sure... It’s still double the challenge!
We’ve all been twice, triple or quadruple blessed!