I was coming up to 28 weeks of pregnancy. I was scared and I was tired.

My doctor was optomistic that I would make it to at least 34 weeks, if not 36.

My iron levels were very low and I had pain. I was anxious, physically and emotionally drained.

My appointment with the good doctor was awful. I didn’t want him to see me so edgy, out of control, upset.

I considered him a friend as well as my doctor. (More about this interesting topic later).

I couldn’t look him in the eye. I had lost faith in my antenatal care.

David had to do all the talking for me.

I guess it is a hard thing to understand. Not many of you out there, who might be reading this, know how Ivy and Noah came to be with us but if all goes to plan, over the next few weeks, you will.

If I have the strength to tell you. If I have the strength to relive it.

A decision was made between the two men that I would come in the following week for an iron infusion. That would bring me close to 29weeks. From there, it was established that I would stay for the rest of the pregnancy under observation.

With that in place, we knew we had alot of organising to do. With five children already at home and being the end of the year, we had to lay down some firm plans. Five weeks in hospital was a long time. For me, for the children and most importantly, for David.

My toddlers eat really well. Ivy especially.

Can you see my tongue pressed firmly on the inside of my cheek?

Today I made lunch, which Ivy and Noah pulled apart, smeared over themselves and then threw to the ground.

I gave them banana.

Noah told me, in no uncertain terms, that banana was only good for one thing; face masks (and not his own either, mine, in case you were wondering).

I gave them sultanas.

When I responded in the negative to Noah’s query of whether the fruit was chocolate he threw the offending brown pieces at me. Like a seal trainer offering up some fish, or throwing the dog a bone…maybe. That’ll teach me for answering honestly. I need to become a stealth Mummy.

I have come to the conclusion they are existing on chocolate, air and their beloved vanilla flavoured formula ("nilla shake - shake").

Linus the dog sits under the highchairs. He knows where his bread is buttered (pardon the pun).

There is nothing wrong with his appetite, nothing at all.

His girth is ever expanding, thanks to the six extra meals (plus snacks) he is getting.

Perhaps I should be more worried about what he is eating, rather than what the twins are not.

He was originally a mini foxie!