"There is baby number one and there is baby number two."
That's how the doctor told me I was expecting twin boys in September 2002. My mother, who was visiting me to celebrate my daughter's second birthday, was called in so the doctor could break the news to both of us at the same time. She cried with happiness. I was in a state of shock, as was my husband when I phoned to tell him. He was sent home as he could no longer function in the office.
I was 41, so the pregnancy was difficult at times. One boy was so low I made many trips to the bathroom overnight, and the other so high that when I did return to bed I had to sleep sitting up due to heartburn. The twins were born a month early as Connor was taking all the food from both his brother James and me. At nine, he still has a healthy appetite.
My then little daughter Ashling, who was ambivalent on hearing the news she was going to have two brothers, on seeing them for the second time in the hospital asked if we could "send them back and get a dog". The relationship has not changed much since then.
While pregnant with the twins, I remember trying to think of the logistics of getting around with three children under three without a car. A double stroller was called for, but not the side by side ones as Hong Kong pavements are mostly too narrow.
Although I already had one child, bringing up twins was entirely different. For me, sleep was a thing of the past. Sometimes they would both wake up at the same time during the night to be fed. Other times I would just get one fed, changed and settled, and crawl back into bed for five minutes, only to hear the other one crying through the monitor. In the end, I stayed up until 3.30am, when my domestic helper kindly got up and took over so I could go back to bed for about four hours and then get up and go to work.
Keeping a feeding chart was essential so we knew whether the twins were waking up and crying to be fed or just waking up and crying.