If You’re In the Trenches of Parenting Multiples Right Now, This Is For You
My twins are 12 now. Which means I can sit here, on the other side of it, and tell you honestly that there is another side.
But I remember the trenches. I remember them clearly.
I remember what it felt like to love two people so ferociously it almost hurt, and to also be completely overwhelmed by them. Sometimes within the same minute. The noise. The needs. The sheer relentlessness of it all. The way 7 am could already feel like the end of a very long day.
Nobody prepares you for what it actually feels like to be outnumbered by the people who need you most. To be touched out by 9 am. To feel guilty for struggling when everyone around you keeps saying how lucky you are, as if lucky and hard can’t exist in the same sentence.
They can. They do. Both things are true, and both things are completely normal when you’re raising multiples.
If that’s where you are right now, I see you. And I’ve been there.
The chaos is temporary. I know it might not feel that way.
When you’re deep inside it, it stops feeling like a season and starts feeling like a personality. Like this is just who you are now. A person who doesn’t sleep. A person who can’t finish a sentence. A person who has forgotten what a hot cup of coffee tastes like because you haven’t managed one in months.
But this is not who you are. This is what you’re going through. And those two things are very different.
There is a version of you on the other side of this. Rested. Grounded. Confident. A version of you who sits on the deck on an ordinary afternoon, drink in hand, kids playing outside, having an actual uninterrupted conversation with another adult and realising, quietly, that you got there.
That version of you exists. I know she does, because I became her. Not all at once. Not without hard work. But she arrived.
She will arrive for you too.
Stop comparing yourself to singleton parents. Their timeline is not your timeline.
This is one I feel strongly about, because I see how much damage it does quietly, in the background, while you’re already running low.
When a friend with one baby says “we just did this and it worked,” they mean well. But what worked for one baby, in one family, with one set of needs, is not a straight answer for you. You are doing something fundamentally more layered, more varied, more demanding. And the sooner you give yourself permission to stop measuring yourself against a completely different experience, the lighter everything feels.
Their milestones are not your milestones. Their wins are not your benchmark. Their “easy fix” was designed for a different situation entirely. You are not behind. You are not failing. You are just on a different path.
Your babies will do things at different times. That is not a problem to fix.
One might sleep through before the other. One might settle easily while the other needs every tool in your kit, every single night. One might hit every milestone first, while the other takes their time and arrives there in their own quiet way.
This is not something going wrong. It’s just two humans, doing things in their own time, at their own pace, in the way that is right for them.
And honestly, that’s worth celebrating. You are not raising a unit. You are raising two individuals who happen to share a birthday, and watching each of them unfold on their own timeline is one of the quiet privileges of this whole wild experience.
Following each child’s lead, instead of expecting them to match each other or keep up with someone else’s baby, is one of the most powerful shifts you can make. It takes the pressure off them. It takes the pressure off you. And it opens up space to actually enjoy who each of them is becoming, right now, exactly as they are.
Asking for help is not a weakness. It might just be the smartest thing you do.
Parenting was never meant to be done alone let alone with multiples! Or with just one other exhausted person who is also running on fumes and doing their absolute best.
There is a story a lot of us tell ourselves, that we should have it together before we reach out. That asking for support means admitting failure. That other people are managing, so we should be managing too.
But here is what I know: the families who find their rhythm fastest are the ones who reach out for help earlier. Not because they are weaker, but because they are honest about what they are actually navigating. No one expects you to have it all figured out before you ask for help. That is what help is for.
The mental load of parenting multiples is relentless. The decision fatigue is real. Having someone in your corner who genuinely understands what you are navigating, who doesn’t hand you generic advice designed for a completely different situation, changes things. It doesn’t fix everything overnight. But it shifts something. And sometimes a shift is exactly what you need to find your footing again.
The moment I knew we’d come out the other side.
It was nothing dramatic. An ordinary afternoon. My husband and I were sitting on the deck, beer in hand, kids playing outside in that lovely chaotic way where they’re loud but completely fine.
And we talked. For thirty whole minutes. Without a single “mum” or “dad.”
I looked at him and just smiled. This is it. This is the other side.
I didn’t fully recognise the hard season ending until I was already past it. That’s how it tends to go. Not a single dramatic turning point, just a gradual easing, a slow return to yourself, until one ordinary afternoon you’re sitting in the sun realising you got there.
It came for us. It will come for you.
If you are struggling please know this:
You are struggling because this is genuinely, objectively hard. And because most of the support and advice available wasn’t built with multiples in mind. It was built for one baby, stretched thin and handed to you as if it should fit.
It often doesn’t. And that is not your fault.
You are doing something extraordinary, even on the days it doesn’t feel that way. The hard seasons don’t last forever, even when they feel endless.
There will be a moment, and you won’t see it coming, where you realise the worst of it has passed. It won’t be a milestone or a celebration. It will be something small and ordinary and completely unremarkable to everyone except you.
Hold on for that moment. It’s coming.
When you have someone in your corner who truly understands what you’re navigating, not just the practicalities but the emotional weight of it, things start to shift. That is exactly what I am here for.
If you are ready to feel less alone in this, I would love to help.
Book a Discovery Call We will look at where you are right now, and work out the clearest, calmest next step together.