I couldn’t bear to leave them but so desperately wanted to tell the world too. It was time to spread the news. I pulled out my list of people to tell so I didn’t forget anyone and set about calling my mum and dad, then Emma. Krzysztof was giving the news to all his friends and family at the same time when we realised we didn’t have a single photo of the babies. The entire camera planning – the iPads and phones – came to nought when I went into the nursery because the nurses wouldn’t let me take any photos. Fortunately, the doctor had taken plenty in the theatre so I knew I’d get hold of them later. In a way, it was nice that it was only Krzysztof and me who had met and seen the babies. It was a bit old fashioned, which felt right. Now everyone’s appetite had been whetted and they all wanted to see the pictures. We called as many people as possible and gave them the news over the phone and wrote the following announcement to send out later that day:
Today, 13th of January 2015, we are excited to announce the birth of our twins!
Two precious babies have just arrived,
Two tiny miracles to bless our lives,
Two bundles of joy, one girl, one boy.
Leo Dudek-Phillip
Birth Time: 12.38am
6 pounds exactly
Olivia Dudek-Phillip
Birth Time: 12.40am
4 pounds and 12 ounces
Our tummy mummy, Grace, is feeling well and recovering quickly.
Proud parents Krzysztof & James, totally in love xxxx
I went back to the hospital room to sleep on a cot bed that the hospital had provided me with, and as only one of us could stay I told Krzysztof to get as much sleep as he could and come round as early as possible so we could start celebrating the babies’ birthdays and doing our best to look after them. I thought I would struggle to sleep. I said goodnight to Grace, who was already asleep, and went to bed, happy that the nurses were in every so often to check on her. The constant to-ing and fro-ing of the nurses coming in and out to do their checks kept waking me up, and I thought this could only be good practice for the future.
After a couple of hours’ sleep, Krzysztof arrived and we were both so excited to see the babies. As soon as I went to the nursery, both Leo and Olivia were having some oxygen and were fine. Although Olivia was slightly smaller, her breathing was better, and Leo had what I called a ‘Tupperware’ over his head – a big clear plastic box filled with oxygen. I went in and wasn’t as scared to touch them and hold them as before. I wanted to pick them up but knew this wouldn’t be allowed yet. I chatted to them about the day and got some lovely photos. Leo kept opening his eyes, checking out his new surroundings, but Olivia still had her eyes closed. I knew that Leo couldn’t see me, but I could look deep into his eyes and the bond was indescribable, which surprised me. He was beautiful, and that he was looking back at me was astonishing.
That night I got to see them both again, and Olivia opened her eyes for the first time. I was taken over with love to see her looking around and checking where she was. I knew she couldn’t possibly see me, but she looked right at me. It was a magical moment, like a firework going off in my head; it was breathtaking. I could see she was settled and getting stronger, so excitedly I moved across to see Leo. His breathing was fast. It was difficult to understand what was going on, but I calmed myself sensing that the nurses seemed unconcerned, although they were monitoring him closely with all the bells and whistles on his machines. I was anxious as it struck me that the checking had finished and now, nearly twenty-four hours after they were born, I was the father of two babies in full-time ICU.
They were getting stronger, but it was completely different to what I had been expecting – two little babies wrapped up in muslins being handed to us as they were born. In fact, I became petrified for them. I hoped with all my energy that they would get stronger, but I wanted to cuddle them and give them milk, not stand in a medical ward and nurture them through plastic holes, or have to negotiate Krzysztof and me having access to love and spend time with them. We had become two dads, but we were also two dads with two babies in ICU in a foreign country, and the realisation was daunting. I also had Grace upstairs, unable to meet the babies because of the rules and in bed recovering from the C-section. I had to joke when I could because to laugh made me feel a little better. So I teased that the nurses would need to put a bucket near their cribs to mop up all my happy tears. And there were lots of them. As the hours passed and I stood holding them, every time they moved and touched me I cried. Leo had now been fitted with a breathing tube. Both babies had an IV line and heart monitors due to their prematurity. If I saw his tube being changed or an alarm went off, I would cry.
As a parent, I was faced with many obstacles that were mine to navigate around while being in there. The sheer noise of all the babies and the machines with their alarms sounding was overwhelming and I wondered many times how any of the babies were able to sleep. Entering the ICU, you would wash your hands, gown up as instructed, and be ushered to your baby, or in our case babies, to spend time with or even help to feed or change them.
Looking around at the other babies and parents in the ICU was sometimes the only moment of relief I could muster while being in there. Sometimes it was heartbreaking. I would be staring down at either Leo or Olivia, petrified that they would not continue to breathe and their hearts may not continue to beat. I witnessed a premature baby next to Leo and Olivia struggle with his early birth so much that the nurses had to gently revive the infant back to life. I could not believe what I was seeing. I was scared for them. I was terrified. I was protective. There I was, willing and loving our own children to fight through their own early birth, and I was watching as someone else’s child struggled on and was brought back.
Sometimes I was rigid with fear from the many emotions racing through me, but ultimately the will to get Leo and Olivia to be able to breathe on their own and suckle became our one and only goal. It was all we would talk about, and it was the only thing I could think about. I called the ICU many times over the next few days, first thing in the morning and last thing at night, to hear how they were and how much milk they had taken. I then passed the updates on to Krzysztof and Grace. I tried my best to protect her from my fears, as I knew the only thing she could do to help was give the nurses her breast milk to be taken to Leo and Olivia. She was so happy when I showed her the photos of the babies, but she could tell how worried I was. She was worried too but tried to hide it. As each hour passed, I would feel ecstatic that the babies were getting stronger, then horrified if anything in the slightest changed. At one point, Olivia was taken off her heart monitor because she was getting so much stronger, then the next thing would be that she was back on the monitor for observation. Leo still had his breathing tube, which would be removed to see if he was strong enough to breathe on his own, and then he would be put back on if he was not. He would be so uncomfortable with the tube that he would fight to pull it out. His movements were jerky because he was premature and if he managed to dislodge his mask the alarm would sound and his heartbeat would race. I could not bear it. I felt so helpless to comfort him. The nurse would be quick to help, but I was faint each and every time.
It was a rollercoaster with massive mountains and ditches, and I wanted to get off and go home with our babies. I didn’t know the difference between day and night. I would glance up at the thirty or so other babies getting stronger or sometimes weaker, and the situation was intense. I had to search each and every time I experienced love and joy to stay in that moment, as inevitably I would be in a panic the next. I needed to be strong too for the babies, and I tried my best not to be exhausted or obviously fearful as I did not want this to have an impact on them in any way, but it was sometimes impossible. I had to hold each of their hands and cry and talk to them to help them get stronger. At first, I was conscious of the other parents and family looking through the viewing glass into the ICU. After a day or so, it didn’t even register
who was there other than Krzysztof. He would not take his gaze off us and he would peer at us until his eyes hurt. He was looking and willing for any signs of improvement. A smile from a nurse who would be with either of the babies made me feel full of joy. A frown or a puzzled look filled me with dread.
I continued to worry, and it was difficult to ask for information. As a same sex couple, Krzysztof and I had been segregated to the 10am and 6pm shifts, away from the other parents visiting, even though our lawyer had paperwork signed by both of us and Grace giving Krzysztof and me full and equal power of attorney over both babies. My lawyer delivered a copy of this to the nursery, but they were reticent to let Krzysztof in to love and touch his babies. We finally got access for Krzysztof on their second day and he was able to spend time with them at last. It seemed we had achieved the unachievable again, as other gay couples we had read about or talked to at the hospital were only allowed one parent in to see their babies, while the heterosexual couples were both allowed to go in. This just didn’t work for me, and I couldn’t watch Krzysztof stand back and not bond with his babies. I was in floods of tears again as he walked in, and I saw the biggest smile I have ever seen on his face as he got to meet his babies for the second time. He was wonderful with them and a pillar of strength for me. How he was holding it together I don’t know, because I was a mess, worried one second and elated the next. It was exhausting. They were only two days old at this point, and we were only able to be with them for two hours a day, although we were watching them through the glass for the other twenty-two hours. His strength kept us together and allowed me to enjoy each improvement. No matter how scared I was, I knew each day would get better and better and we would soon be home. I just wanted it more quickly than it seemed to be happening.
I dashed back to the hotel for some food and a shower, then trundled back to my cot bed in the next room to Grace’s to settle down to sleep. I checked with the nursery via the nurse on our floor and she confirmed that both babies were taking their milk well and that Leo’s breathing had slightly improved. I was sure that was because he had seen his other dad that night, and I went to sleep with a big, happy smile on my face.
The day was approaching when Grace would leave the hospital, but I knew that we wouldn’t be ready to go one way with the babies while she went in the other direction. At this point, it seemed the babies would be in the hospital for such a long time and it felt strange that Grace was leaving first. We helped her pack up her room and I was upset – I knew this was an ending and quite final when she left. We gathered up all of her things and she got ready to get into a cab with her friend and her daughter. I felt really emotional inside, but I didn’t want to cry in front of her. I wanted to hug her, but I thought it best to just smile and wish her well, and not be too emotional. I knew I would see her soon and she would visit the babies when she brought the breast milk over, as she had agreed to continue to collect her breast milk via the pump and get it to us at the hospital or the hotel. I knew that the day she left the hospital would be such a pivotal moment for us all. I was so worried about the babies I really found it difficult at this point to concentrate on anything else. I stood with Krzysztof outside the lobby as she carefully got in a taxi and drove off. That was it. She had left and we were to stay and look after the babies, get them well and then home.
This is the point where the tables switched, as I had agreed with Grace that if she wanted to know anything about the babies she was to ask me, and I would tell her. I was the one updating her on how Leo and Olivia were, and it felt really strange. All these months she had been the one telling me. Now we were looking after our own babies and updating her. When Krzysztof and I went to lunch after she left, I broke down crying because I missed her so much at this point. We had chatted every day, all the time, and now that Leo and Olivia were finally here the relationship had moved to a new dimension, and I wondered how that would develop. As it was, I kept an eagle eye on her messages, scanning them to see if she showed any hint of wanting to keep the babies or change her mind, but my suspicions dissipated, as she was so happy we finally had our family. She felt lucky that we involved her and updated her on how the babies were growing and getting on.
We now had to make ourselves understand that the babies were not coming home straight away and that we would be shuttling back and forth from the hospital to spend time with them and to help to feed them in the morning at 10am and the evening at 6pm. I felt awkward about not being able to go in at the same time, but we agreed that I would go in the mornings and Krzysztof would go in the evenings. I was beginning to feel a lot of pressure every time we went in. Krzysztof described it as ‘feeding anxiety’ and as soon as he said that I knew what he meant. I so wanted to be with the babies, but at the same time it made me feel down that they couldn’t leave the hospital. I was anxious about going into the hospital each visit, but we managed and enjoyed each time as much as we could. I was always looking for the doctor to see if there was any sign that they could come home soon. I had no idea how long they would be in there. The doctor did mention that they would wait at least until the time the babies would have been in the womb at thirty-six weeks, which was at least another week. At this point they seemed so small and fragile; sometimes I couldn’t imagine taking them home for months.
We met many people on those hospital visits and there was a lot of small talk and exchanges of information as to how to get the paperwork done quickly. Many of the babies born around that time were surrogacy babies – I would say at least ten – so we were in good company for finding out the best way to go about things. The only challenge about this was that we would see people have their babies and then, a couple of days later, they were off home while we were still stuck going back and forth at 10am and 6pm. The room we fed our babies in was away from the big glass screen and a little quieter, shielded from all the bleeps and whistles, although you could still hear them in the distance. There would be a few parents in there, eagerly peering, waiting for their babies to be wheeled in to feed. Some would cry and some were silent, but as the days rolled on I began to be more comfortable handling Leo and Olivia and enjoyed my chats with the other parents. I yearned to have Krzysztof in there with me. I was so bored sometimes just waiting in the evenings but knew as each day passed we were closer to getting our babies home.
It was a full week before we got to sit with them together as a family and feed our babies together. I gave Krzysztof a kiss and took our first selfie as a foursome. It was the first time I heard Krzysztof talking in Polish to the babies, and it felt wonderful – if a little strange – for us both to be sitting there feeding them after what seemed to be such a long time. We had agreed previously that Krzysztof would talk exclusively in Polish to the babies to give them exposure to both our languages and, although I didn’t understand the words he was speaking, I understood the sounds of love in everything he was saying to them.
We finally got confirmation that we would be going home a full ten days after Leo and Olivia were born. The wait felt like an eternity, and we were as organised and unpacked as we could be at the apartment. It was time for them to come home. I was so nervous and excited and wondered if it would actually happen. In the back of my mind was the thought that Grace could change her mind at any moment, but as the day approached I called the nursery to find out if the babies had fed well, which they had, and we got the Isofix baby seat bases installed in our hired car ready to bring the twins home.
Leo and Olivia moments after they were born
Chapter 24
Learning to Love
Driving to the hospital that morning was surreal. We were in our car with two empty baby seats in the back, off to pick up Leo and Olivia. I was the most nervous I’d ever been as I walked into the hospital, in case the health of the babies had changed, but when we saw them all snuggled up in their blankets my heart started beating quickly – it seemed today might just be the day.
The staff let b
oth of us into the feeding suite that morning, and when we walked in there was a double hamper of nappies, creams and milk – a sort of going away gift from the hospital. It was actually happening. In fact, it was happening in about one hour, after we’d given them their first bath and got them ready to leave. We unwrapped them from their hospital clothes and prepared them for their bath. We were scared we would drop them, but we did our best to wash them with a little sponge as gently as possible and get them out of the water, then dry and dress them in some clothes we had prepared for them. Bathing them for the first time was a wonderful experience for both of us. We were both panicky, but to see the babies enjoy their first bath was a moment of realisation that we were dads forever now. They looked so different in clothes we had prepared for them, as we were so used to seeing them in the same muslin wraps as all the other babies in the nursery. It was as if they were emerging from the hospital as part of us, as we all went off together as a family. In a wonderful way that is exactly what was happening. The whole atmosphere in the feeding suite was different somehow, and now that we were building in confidence, holding the babies, drying them and dressing them for their first trip out of hospital, I was completely proud. I kept looking over to see Krzysztof bathing and changing Leo and my heart was skipping to the music of their cries and, by the sounds of it, they were as eager to get to their new home as we were.
Surrogacy Page 14