It was me who brought the second twin to the mom, so that both were cradled warmly against her chest. Her husband joined her at the head of the bed, embracing her as they nuzzled and cooed and cried over their newborn son and daughter. …
“Mom, every time I look in the mirror, I see something different. Sometimes it’s good and I feel good about myself, but, sometimes it’s not.” It was well after dinner, and my nine-year-old daughter was perched on the kitchen counter nibbling on apple slices while …
