She laughed and asked for her water.
Hours later, everything changed.
Serious complications developed during delivery. The doctors warned us they might not save all three.
Mary gripped my fingers.
“The girls. Obviously the girls.”
I wanted to protest, to demand another option.
But she squeezed my hand again.
And I finally said, “Save the babies.”
By morning, Mary was dead.
I returned home with two newborn daughters and a bag of her belongings.