18/05/2026
Every single morning at 10:00, I stood in front of the neonatal unit door with my pumped breast milk in my hands, waiting for the doctors to finish their morning rounds. Entering the unit was always filled with fear and uncertainty about the health condition of our twins.
I was constantly afraid of what the doctors might have discussed before — whether they had talked about our children’s condition, or even whether keeping them alive was still worth it. Our twins were intubated for six weeks and faced many complications.
I always tried to smile and to appear calm, as if everything was okay. But inside, I felt completely lost and overwhelmed with millions of questions. I often tried to pick up small pieces of information from the nurses along the way. That helped me a little not to lose control.
So our daily routine began: kangaroo care separately with each baby, pumping milk in between, and waiting. The only place I wanted to be was next to my children — nowhere else. Not in the cafeteria, not meeting friends, not going for a walk. Just beside my children, every single second.
I always felt very welcomed by the whole team — except during the morning rounds, because parents were not allowed inside at that time. Still, I sometimes felt useless. I did not know what to do once I had finished kangaroo care and pumping. I felt helpless standing beside the incubators, unable to do anything more for our twins.
Sometimes I walked a few rounds through the corridor and then came back, hoping to watch the nurses caring for them or to have another chance for kangaroo care if there was enough time to place one of the babies in my arms again.
Have you experienced these feelings too?
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