April 5, 2022

It’s the night before the twins’ eleventh birthday, and I have a captive audience as we gather around the table for taco salad night.

I tell them about the miracle of going full-term with twins, during a season we could not afford for me not to work.

I tell them about the night spent in triage, convinced I was in labor after my water broke, only to find out it was pee and a stomach bug.

I tell them about the morning of their birth, about how I’d asked my mom, their Sunshine, not to come to the hospital just yet because only Chris could come into the operating room. I tell them that as I’m wheeled out into the hall, back to my room with babies on my chest, there is my mom. Sunshine had been waiting the entire time, just in case Momma needed her mama.