Hands

I've been thinking about this blip awhile. It's got less to do with the actual photograph than the story behind it.

The girls will be 7 months old tomorrow, and the every day can be seen in my hands. I've always had freakishly small hands with child like proportions. But at the moment they're cracked and dry from all the hand washing.

There were times when the girls were first born where I cleaned them 4 times in five minutes. You had to wash your hands when you entered the neonatal unit, the intensive care section, and whenever you wanted to put your hands in the incubators.

We had to be so careful of cross contamination when the girls were in their incubators. If you had just touched one of the girls, even if it was just to let them hold your finger, you could not touch the other twin until you had washed and rubbed in the alcohol rub. I've got sensitive skin, and eczema, which meant all this hand washing turned my hands bright red with cracked skin when the girls were in intensive care. The staff ended up giving my gloves one week to help.

In the first couple of weeks we were only allowed to put our hands in the incubators for a minute or so, so that we didn't tire them out. You could only let them touch your finger, or you could touch the hat they were wearing or their nappy. They skin was just that fragile. It was also transparent. Which took a bit of getting used to.

That's when I started to cut my nails right down. Their skin was so fragile. Once Annabel knocked her leg against my thumb nail and she instantly bruised.

I've got this terrible habit of chewing the skin around my nails, which bizarrely I've got much better about because of the girls. It meant more hand washing.

Now my hands have a very different role. They still get used to carry, soothe, and feed. But they also get used for play. At the moment the girls find my hands and their own hands more interesting the any toy.

It's strange thinking back to those early days.

I mostly just wish I had an extra pair of hands now!