Dylan

The first 20 weeks of our pregnancy were sheer bliss. Wondering who our twins would be and what they would become whilst looking forward to the scans that gave us a little glimpse into their world.

But at our 21 week scan our world was turned upside down as we learned that one of our lovely twins had unfortunately passed away.

And although we didn’t fully realise it at the time, we were now in a race against time for the survival of our second twin.

His name is Dylan and he entered the world at 4pm on December 16 2005 having been born at 27 weeks as a consequence of my wife going into labour with the twin we will never know.

He weighed less than two pounds, was smaller than the size of your hand and looked like a frightened and helpless bird.

He was also in a poor condition. He had no respiratory rate, made no spontaneous movements and was placed immediately in a blue plastic bag and given cardiac massage.

Within those first few minutes of life we understood his chances of survival to be no better than 50:50 and so began our three-month roller-coaster ride through the Winnicott Unit at St Mary’s.

Nothing prepares you for the physical and emotional onslaught that every parent goes through with these tiny lives in this unknown corner of a London hospital.

Our whole world reduced to the size of a large perspex shoebox as we helplessly watched our tiny son wired up and fighting for his life hour-by-hour, day-by-day in his incubator.

Initially it’s a blur… the machines, the language, the environment all completely baffling and frightening in equal measure.

But then something amazing happens.

You suddenly see past all the medicine and technology and realise that Dylan is in the hands of the most talented, dedicated and compassionate ‘extended-family’ that anyone could ever hope for.

And they are the staff, nurses, doctors, specialists and consultants that make the Winnicott Unit the exceptional place it is.

They are too numerous to name but together over the next three months this wonderful team empowered us to get involved in being part of the care our son needed whilst with great dignity and professionalism set about their business of saving Dylan’s life.

Dylan’s journey through the Winnicott wasn’t easy, with dark waves of panic continually crashing over us as our brave little boy faced jaundice, bleeding on the brain, blood transfusions, a hole in the heart and an infection outbreak as part of his daily routine.

It’s impossible to described the unrelenting stress of such a journey on all concerned yet our abiding memories of our time in the Winnicott are the first time Dylan reached back to grab his mummy’s finger as he lay under the UV light to treat his jaundice – a picture we’ve managed to capture and simply called “Hope”.

That and the wonderful memories and eternal gratitude we have to the Winnicott team who brought our brave little boy back home to us.

Today, Dylan is a wonderful little chap. He’s healthy, curious and a right little chatterbox as he approaches his second birthday.

He’s a true inspiration and brings joy into our lives every day.

But he is only with us today because the Winnicott was there for him.

And no words will ever express our thanks enough.