“Protect me?”
My voice shook.
“You let me walk into that delivery room believing everything was fine!”
“I didn’t know for certain.”
“You knew there was a possibility!”
He lowered his voice.
“You were already anxious. You couldn’t sleep. You were scared about becoming a mother. I thought if I told you—”
“So you made the decision for me?”
“I was afraid you might make a decision you’d regret.”
I laughed bitterly through my tears.
“Look what I just did.”
Brian went silent.
Then I pushed past him.
Inside the nursery, my twins were lying beside each other.
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They were tiny.
So unbelievably tiny.
One was sleeping.
The other was awake, moving her hand slowly beneath the blanket.
I walked closer.
For the first time since giving birth, I really looked at them.
Not at
Not at the future I was terrified of.
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At them.
My daughters.
Baby A had a little crease between her eyebrows.
Baby B had the roundest cheeks I had ever seen.
As I leaned over the crib, one tiny hand moved toward the other.
Her fingers found her sister’s hand.
And closed around it.
I covered my mouth.
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The nurse beside me whispered, “They’ve been doing that since they were brought in here.”
Something inside me collapsed.
All the fear, shame, anger, and confusion poured out at once.
“I left them.”
The nurse didn’t answer.
“I heard them crying, and I still left.”
I reached through the opening in the crib.
One of my daughters wrapped her fingers around mine.
Her entire hand barely covered the tip of my finger.
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But she held on.
I started
“I’m sorry.”
Brian stood behind me.
I didn’t turn around.
“I’m so sorry.”
A social worker arrived less than ten minutes later.