The other somewhere else, possibly never knowing that she had come into the world with a sister who once slept a few inches from her.
My car keys fell out.
They hit the pavement with a loud metallic sound.
“Take me back.”
The nurse looked at me.
“What?”
“Take me back with them.”
We run.
When we got to the maternity plant, I felt my lungs burning.
My husband, Brian, was standing near the nurses' desk.
As soon as he saw me, an expression of relief appeared on his face.
“I thought you were gone.”
I barely looked at him.
“Where are they?”
“Who?”
I stared at it.
“Our daughters.”
His expression changed.
He pointed to the newborn room.
I opened the doors.
And there they were.
Two little cribs.
One next to the other.
For the first time since the doctor had spoken those terrifying words, I stopped thinking about everything that could happen twenty years from now.
I looked at what was happening at the same time.
One of the babies was sleeping.Review Articles Maternity
The other was awake, with her little wrinkled face moving under the blanket.
I walked over.
“Do you want this one?” I whispered.
The nurse came in behind me.
“To Baby A.”
I looked at the card placed in the crib.
Then I looked at the other one.
Baby B.
Two clinical labels.
Like they're not sisters.
Like they're not mine.
Then Baby A stretched one of her tiny arms toward the edge of the crib.
His little fingers opened and closed in the air.
Baby B moved beside her.
I started crying.Discover Articles Baby
“Can I charge them?”
The nurse nodded.
A few moments later I was sitting in a chair, with a newborn woman leaning on either side of my chest.
They were so light.
So warm.
So incredibly small.
Baby A made a soft sound.Review Articles Maternity
Baby B turned her head toward her.
That was it.
Just a tiny move.
But it destroyed me.
“I almost allowed someone to separate them,” I whispered.
Brian was standing at the door.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
I looked up sharply.
“Did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That someone wanted only one of them.”
His face paled.
“No.”
I believed him.
But she was still furious.
With him.
With me herself.
With everybody.
Especially with myself.
“I was afraid,” I whispered.
