Twin Village is the parenting app built for twin parents, from pregnancy to the teenage years. Track both babies in one place, bring your whole village along, and meet twin parents near you.
Free public beta opens 31 October. Be one of the first families in.
Two babies, one bath, zero casualties. Elite work.
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From the first scan to the teenage years, every screen is designed for two. Dual pregnancy tracking, side-by-side feeds and naps, adjustments for babies who arrived early, and milestones for both, without ever choosing one child to log first.
You, your partner, the nanny, the grandparents: everyone logs feeds, naps and nappies into one shared view. Whoever's on shift knows exactly who ate, who slept and who's next, without a single "did you feed Isla?" text.
Villagers join with their own code and only see what they need to help.
Find twin parents near you. People who already know what it takes to get a double pram through a café door, and who'll never once say "you've got your hands full".
Twin Village keeps an eye on what's coming so you don't have to: the next feed, the nap window, the milestone round the corner. It's the secret weapon every twin parent deserves, because you've earned one.
Our AI helper answers the questions that land at 3am. How many layers tonight? When's the next nap due? Which car actually fits two car seats and a double buggy? Ask out loud, get a straight answer.
Sleep and clothing answers draw on Lullaby Trust guidance. Twin Village isn't a medical service: for anything medical, call NHS 111, or 999 in an emergency.
Yes, it's overwhelming. Yes, it's hard. But raising two humans at once gives you superhuman status, and your village is here to keep reminding you what a rockstar you are.
Built by three twin mums who needed it first. Read our story
Three twin mums, six babies, three double prams and one standard double room, booked at a day rate.
Laura, Kate and Mols. Six babies, three double prams, one very squished hotel room.
On a wet winter's day, the three of us each drove an hour, two babies in tow, to meet in a hotel room we'd booked on a day rate. (Yes, that's a thing. Don't think about it too much.)
We were all struggling, in different ways.
Our bodies were recovering from the physical feat of growing two humans at once. We were permanently sleep deprived. We were overwhelmed by two tiny people who needed more than we could give, and we carried a constant guilt that we could never meet both of their needs at the same time.
We were still processing the miscarriages and fertility struggles that came before our high-risk pregnancies, and the fear that we'd never have the babies we wanted so badly. Now here they were, and we were struggling to cope. In the dark moments we wondered what we'd done, and then felt terrible guilt all over again.
We were dealing with the health issues that come with premature babies, even though we'd all been relatively lucky. And we were dealing with a loss of identity. We were three executive women at the top of the advertising industry. Our calendars had been full of creative meetings and strategic conversations. Now they were full of feeding logistics and rigorous nap schedules we were terrified to break, because if we lost control of these two tiny people, we weren't sure how we'd cope. If they both needed us at once, what would we do?
And we were lonely. Our NCT groups were full of people who were finding it hard too, but they had one baby. How do you talk about struggling with two, when all you want to say is a bitter "well, try having two"? They felt guilty sharing their struggles with someone handling double. And they got frustrated when our twins stuck to a routine while their baby wouldn't even go in the cot.
By some gift, we'd met seven years earlier on a leadership programme and connected professionally. Then, somehow, we had twins within two months of each other.
We needed each other, but we didn't have much left to give, and we lived in a triangle an hour apart. A café with six babies on tight schedules was never going to work. Public toilets were hit and miss for a double pram. So we booked a hotel room: all the space we needed, a toilet we could actually use, and room service to feed ourselves.
That day we laughed and we cried. We ordered club sandwiches to a standard double room that, once six babies and three double prams were in, was pretty squished. We talked about how one day we'd look back on it from somewhere far nicer, glass of rosé in hand, and laugh about what a low point it was.
It was the day we decided to make this better for every twin parent who came after us.
If our leadership training taught us anything, it was to recognise our strengths and celebrate our wins. We realised we needed to celebrate ourselves for keeping two humans alive and getting through the newborn months. Because it was survival. There were moments of joy, but on the whole it was relentlessly hard and lonely. Nothing felt built for us. Not the baby classes, not the coffee mornings, not even the doorways our giant prams wouldn't fit through.
We were sick of hearing "double trouble" and "you've got your hands full" every time we left the house. So we decided to show twin parents the truth: twin parenting is a superpower, and you're an elite human being for handling it.
So we built this for you. An app designed around your needs and your babies' needs. A secret weapon in your pocket, and a way to meet other twin parent rockstars who'll cheer you on, the way the three of us cheered each other on.
We're thrilled to welcome you to our village. We'll keep building this club, finding more ways to connect you and reminding you how special you are. Very few people get to live through something this unique and this magical.
Twin parenting is a superpower, not a curse.
Laura, Kate & Mols
Free to download. Built for two.