Smaller somehow, even though there was barely any difference between them.
She weighed six pounds, one ounce and had dark hair that looked almost black beneath the hospital lights.
There was a little crease beside her left eye that only showed when she cried.
I used to joke that Hannah had done enough crying for both of them.
David would laugh and tell me I was going to spoil them both.
I probably would have.
We were twenty-seven and exhausted and completely unprepared for what it meant to have two newborns.
Our house seemed to become a world of bottles, blankets, diapers, laundry, and tiny cries.
There were two bassinets beside our bed.
Two little blankets.
Continue on the next page:
