It was a Tuesday. Our twins’ very first one.
That morning at home began much like the delirious days preceding it: a 7:30am awkward and anxious tandem nursing, followed by double baby burping and dual diapering. As a first-time mom, I was adrift in the new-parent paranoia and hyper analysis of every hiccup and twitch — and yet simultaneously entranced by each finger movement and chest-inflating breath, times two. My treks up and down the stairs were strictly limited by doctor mandate to once or twice a day.After helping tend to the morning’s first baby maintenance session, my husband, Scott, was downstairs.
In a tone I’d never heard him use before (and haven’t heard him use since), a blend of tender concern and clear urgency, he yelled, “Honey, are you watching the news?” I quickly (well, as quickly as one can when maneuvering newborn twins with minimal body control) turned the television to Today on channel 12. Shots of a blazing World Trade Center North Tower filled…
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