My friend Nina’s twin girls arrived today — two little girls with full heads of black hair, who came out squalling and who each bit the doctor!
Nina is my dear friend, the one I called when that assistant coroner was sitting in his truck in front of my house a year ago, waiting to see if I had someone who would come. Nina came, and she cooked pot roast for days and took care of me and everyone else who gathered in my kitchen that week.
Nina’s last pregnancy ended in stillbirth, so this one has been fraught. We’ve all been scared to death. Twins, she’s not young any more, she was about as high risk as a person could be, and the good hospital is over in Billings, an hour and a half away. It’s been a long summer of worrying about Nina, and these babies, and so I was not the only one in town weeping when I heard the news. There have been happy, weepy phone calls going around town all night.
Nina is fine. The babies seem fine. They’re a little early, and we won’t know about their lungs for a day or so, but this evening we’re all filled with gratitude that everyone is alive, and seems to be okay. Thanksgiving came a little early this year.