Introducing Vita Marina Calliope, who flew into the world like a little bird in the early morning of 7th November. She is astonishing, and we are all well.  I can’t wait to share her (long) birth story with you in due course, but for now, we are prioritising sleep and spending time with the many, many children.  There are more photos and updates on our instagram if you’d like to follow along.

Overdue limbo is a funny place to be. When my twin daughters went overdue I felt as though I was losing my mind, as though my body had failed me; every day I woke up close to tears because nothing had happened and I wanted to give the girls the time they needed in order to be ready to be born but I was also so afraid – that I was making the wrong decision, that their placentas would fail, that they would be harmed and it would be my fault. I was afraid, with the size of them and me, that I would rupture and bleed out on the carpet. I was afraid to leave behind my workplace, when I had been employed there for a mere six months and everything still felt so new. I wanted so badly for the girls to arrive and the stress to end.… View Post

I have walked this path since before you were born. Years before you, Silas danced at the end of his lead rope, pulling it so tightly against my hand that it burned. We stood together for a moment beneath the trees and I rested my face against his withers and breathed him in. It was January and I was twenty-one; he was my Christmas present to myself, bought with money given to me by my grandparents who had hoped that I would buy a car but knew that I would choose a horse. He was the realisation of a dream, of an entire childhood of other people’s ponies. He was the ‘happily ever after’ that I had held out for as a little girl. You were another dream. All five of you. At the end of this month, when you boys turn four, I will introduce you to horses. I… View Post

On our first Halloween as parents, the boys were one day old.  We brought them home from the hospital; Kirsty wore them in a sling and took them on the bus, and I took a taxi and met her at home.  I don’t think that we registered that it was Halloween.  We stumbled to bed and stared at our babies in a daze and if, that night, little trick-or-treaters rang the bell for us, we were so exhausted that we didn’t know it. On our second Halloween as parents, Kirsty knitted the most elaborate little costumes and we took the boys to a Halloween Parade.  Secretly, on the other side of London, the small balls of cells that would become their sisters were dividing in a petri dish.  We held our sons, who were still babies, and marvelled that we had known them for a year. On our third Halloween… View Post

There comes a morning where I convince myself that I can’t possibly go into labour whilst we still have the old sofa. All morning, I blink back tears whenever I think about it – how old it is, how battered, how the shiny blackness of the material adds nothing to the aesthetic of our living room. I think about how much worse labour will be when I am staring at that sofa, and how on edge I will feel when the midwives sit down on it. A colleague asks how I am and my woes spill out of me in a ranting, miserable stream. “I wish,” I tell her, “that I could buy a new one. Right now. A rainbow sofa.” “Ours has rainbow buttons,” she says, and sends me a link. It is beautiful. I order it in the lift on my way back from collecting my boss’s lunch,… View Post