Seven months after our divorce, I rushed into St. Jude’s Children’s and Women’s Hospital, still angry at my ex-wife, only to learn that she had just given birth to twin boys, and both of them were mine. Before the night was over, a nurse would place a brass key in my hand and tell me to use it before my own family arrived. And what was waiting for me beyond that was even more shocking.
A sudden knock sounded on the wooden door of the room.
Nurse Florence stepped inside, holding a plastic medical clipboard against her apron.
“The attending physician will be in shortly to do a routine check on you, Sylvia,” Florence announced gently.
She noticed the intense looks on our faces and paused.
“Has something happened?” Florence asked, sensing the tension.
“Has anyone unusual come onto the floor recently?” I asked Nurse Florence directly.
“Your mother just stepped out of the elevator downstairs,” Florence revealed calmly.
