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.

“If your mother asks about taking the boys, don’t let her move them off this floor,” she warned sternly.

A cold feeling settled into my stomach.

“She has no legal right to move my children,” I said firmly.

“She’ll try to claim she has the legal authority to act,” Sylvia warned.

“She has no such authority,” I insisted.

“Not yet,” Sylvia added ominously.

That particular phrase made me freeze completely.

“What do you mean, ‘not yet’?” I demanded.