We dream about the day we finally get to bring our babies home. For parents of NICU babies, especially twins, that dream is wrapped in hope, relief, and fear all at once. After weeks of monitors, sterile walls, and medical routines, leaving the NICU feels like crossing into a new world. But instead of the joy-filled homecoming I imagined, I was met with something more complicated: silence, responsibility, and a whole lot of feelings I didn’t expect.
This is what it really looked like to bring our twin girls home from the NICU and how that experience shaped me into the kind of mother I never saw coming.
The Car Ride Felt Like a Victory Parade and a Panic Attack
You think you’ll be celebrating, but you’re also holding your breath. When our twins were finally discharged, I thought I’d feel light, euphoric, unstoppable. But I sat in the back seat with both of their car seats in view, scanning every breath, every squeak, every movement. My partner drove 10 miles under the speed limit while I mentally prepared for every possible emergency we might face when we walked through our front door.
Why that first ride matters:
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It’s the first moment where there’s no medical team between you and your baby
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The NICU becomes a memory instead of a moment
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You start to realize just how much responsibility you’re about to carry
We made it home, but I was already exhausted by the emotional weight of it.
Home Was Quiet, Almost Too Quiet
No beeping monitors. No nurses at the door. Just... us. In the NICU, someone was always checking vitals, writing notes, adjusting machines. At home, it was just me, staring at two bassinets while the girls slept soundlessly. I kept placing my hand on their chests to make sure they were breathing. I couldn’t fall asleep unless I heard both of them stirring.
The unexpected reality:
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Silence isn’t always peaceful when you’ve been trained to look for alarms
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The transition from constant monitoring to independent care is jarring
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Even “normal” sounds at home can spark anxiety (Was that reflux? Is she choking?)
For NICU parents, coming home is not the end of fear, it’s the beginning of a different kind.
Double the Feedings, Double the Tracking, Triple the Anxiety
Twins mean everything happens times two, especially in those early days. Feeding schedules, medicine doses, nap logs, breathing checks. I had a system for everything. One girl had reflux, the other struggled with weight gain. They needed different amounts of milk. I had a notebook, alarms on my phone, and sticky notes all over the kitchen.
Twin-specific challenges after the NICU:
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Keeping track of two babies’ evolving medical needs
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Juggling feeding tubes or medications while breastfeeding or bottle-feeding
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Managing exhaustion without the support of rotating NICU staff
It felt like running a tiny ICU on my own, except I was also the chef, janitor, and emotional support system.
Mom Guilt Came in New, Unexpected Forms
I thought the guilt would end when we came home. I was wrong. In the NICU, I felt guilty for not being there every hour of every day. At home, I felt guilty for everything else: for sleeping, for not knowing what was wrong, for choosing one baby’s needs over the other’s, even for smiling when I should’ve felt grateful just to have them here.
Guilt triggers I didn’t anticipate:
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One twin reaching milestones faster than the other
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Wanting space and quiet after endless cuddles and feeds
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Resenting how “normal” parenting still felt so far away
NICU guilt evolves, but it rarely disappears. Learning to manage it without letting it define me became part of my healing.
Moments That Grounded Me (Even When I Was Falling Apart)
Despite the exhaustion, there were moments that kept me going. When they both slept on my chest, their bodies still so small and warm. When they locked eyes with each other for the first time. When I dressed them in Vincent Faith outfits that actually fit clothes that reminded me they were growing, thriving, becoming their own little people.
What helped most:
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Sticking to small routines (bath time, story time, sunlight by the window)
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Dressing them in clothes that felt like them, not like hospital gowns
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Documenting tiny milestones, even if they didn’t match “typical” timelines
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Talking to other NICU twin moms who didn’t need me to explain everything
Those small rituals gave me back a sense of normalcy, even when everything felt fragile.
One Heartbeat, Two Journeys
Though they shared a womb and an isolette, my twins took very different paths. One was ready to come home before the other. One ate better, the other needed more monitoring. As much as I wanted to treat them as a perfect pair, I quickly learned that being their mom meant seeing their individual needs, even when they came from the same place.
What I learned:
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Twins are not a unit, they’re two whole humans
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Comparison is a trap (especially when NICU timelines vary)
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Giving each baby space to grow at their own pace is the most loving thing I could do
And somehow, in all that separation, they still found each other’s rhythm. Even asleep, they turned toward each other two cribs, one heartbeat.
To the Twin NICU Moms Who Are Just Coming Home
You’re not alone in feeling overwhelmed. Bringing home two NICU babies is a miracle wrapped in intensity. You may feel guilty for being scared, tired, unsure or even for not feeling “overjoyed” every second. That doesn’t make you a bad mom. It makes you a real one.
Here’s what I wish someone told me:
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It’s okay if joy feels complicated right now
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You don’t have to be equally perfect for both babies, just present
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Small wins matter more than curated Instagram moments
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Healing takes time for you, and for them
You’ve already done something incredible. Now you get to keep doing it, one hour, one feed, one cuddle at a time.
At Vincent Faith, we were born from stories like this. Our clothing is designed for twin NICU journeys, created by a twin NICU mom who understands the deep beauty, fear, and transformation of life after discharge. Every outfit is made to support your babies and honor your strength.
👉 Shop Twin-Friendly NICU Collections
