Iren:
I never imagined giving birth with anyone else by my side. But after I had my son and my sister nearly collapsed outside the maternity hospital, we decided that next time we would give birth together. When my son was almost four, the question became where and how to have our second child. I had my first at the Perinatal Center (PAG), and my experience there wasn’t the best. Besides the Perinatal Center, the only option for me, for health reasons, was Maternity Hospital No. 5. I found out they allowed husbands to be present during birth and that mothers could stay with their babies after delivery. At the Perinatal Center, babies were separated from their mothers, which worried me. At the time, though, I was just relieved: I had no experience, I struggled with breastfeeding, and if they had handed me the baby then, I honestly don’t know what I would have done. I was dealing with postpartum depression, crying day and night, my breasts hurt, and everything irritated me.
So my sister and I went to Maternity Hospital No. 5 to ask the chief doctor for permission for joint births. It turned out to be simple: the chief doctor said we could give birth with anyone, even our grandmother, as long as we submitted the necessary tests. And all of this was free. We were thrilled; my sister got all her tests done, and for half a month before the delivery she was packed and ready with her phone in her hand, since I had delivered my first child two weeks early. My daughter, however, was born right on her due date, but like with my son, labor started at night.
Many relatives and friends disapproved of our plan and had all sorts of opinions. We didn’t listen; we just wanted to be together, to help each other, to truly support one another. I am so grateful to have a twin sister. Huge thanks to our parents for bringing us into this world (even though they worried about it) and for raising us. We are three sisters: the eldest, and then there was supposed to be a boy… but instead we got two more girls. I don’t know how our parents managed it all, but now that I have my own children, I understand that they are true heroes.
My sister and I have a special bond: we’ve been together our whole lives, we never get bored, and we always have something to talk about, which is why we often feel short on time to connect.
The long-awaited day arrived: at 2 a.m. my water broke and contractions began. My sister arrived at the hospital in 20 minutes. Of course, staff immediately confused her with me—they couldn’t figure out where my belly had gone. I was so happy she was by my side. We understood each other without words, and since she already had a daughter, it was easier for her to know what needed to be done. She walked me around the room, rubbed my back, distracted me with stories, brought me water, indulged my whims, and kept me from panicking, encouraging me to keep walking. I didn’t think about anything or anyone; I was just myself next to my sister. Time flew. I was walking, chatting, and almost gave birth in the room—I barely made it to the delivery room. Lyuda was always by my side, giving clear, loud advice in the delivery room so I wouldn’t lose focus or panic. She encouraged me, saying it was almost over. If someone asked me what the happiest day of my life was, I would answer without hesitation: the two days I gave birth to my children. All the pain and suffering fades away in an instant; as the saying goes, a woman may feel sorrow when she goes into labor, but she experiences great joy when a person comes into the world.
The joy when they place a warm bundle on your chest and it squeaks and wriggles, when you see familiar features and realize how happy you are—that feeling is indescribable.
Then our daughter was handed to the caring arms of Aunt Lyuda, who weighed and measured her with the nurse, hugging and carrying her for a long time. Once the excitement settled, my sister fed me, congratulated me again, kissed me, and then rushed home. She hadn’t slept all night. At home, as my husband later recounted, she celebrated with a drink, didn’t get tipsy, and couldn’t sleep for another day.
That was our shared experience. It was so much easier for me to go through it together. After that baptism by fire, we became even closer and more connected.
Sister, thank you so much!
Yolka:
I believe the greatest happiness a person can experience is having many close, beloved people around them.
I am incredibly lucky: no matter the circumstances, I have had this close, beloved person since the day I was born. We have been together since birth. Or rather, let me put it more accurately—together. Always together. Even if we aren’t physically close at times, at any moment I would give everything for her; I would give my life if it were needed. I love her children as if they were my own. We physically cannot live without each other. Our husbands have already come to terms with our endless phone calls and online chats. So having joint births felt completely natural for us. How wonderful that we even thought of it.
Honestly, this is the only time in my life when I felt so emotional for days afterward, as if I were under the influence of something. The arrival of new life is a miracle, incomparable to anything else. Only by experiencing this alongside my sister did I realize how much I love her and how dear she is to me—I would reach for the stars to ease her pain. I made sure she didn’t feel lonely.
And Ksyusha—that warm bundle in your arms—it’s the whole world in your hands. I didn’t put her down for over two hours after giving birth and never left my sister’s side. It’s hard to recall a greater happiness: such shared, bright, joyful moments. We chatted nonstop, laughed, couldn’t take our eyes off Ksyusha, and couldn’t get enough of that happiness. Leaving the hospital (literally pulling myself away by sheer will and the understanding that my girls and I needed rest), we spent the ride home endlessly calling each other: “I love you so much! You did so well!” “And how much I love you! What would I do without you?”
P.S. It doesn’t matter whether it’s joint births or any other event—these moments only strengthen the understanding that you are not alone. There’s always a piece of you, a part of your life, multiplied many times over. I can’t find the words to express that my sister is the most precious, most valuable thing I have in this world.
