Death on an Airplane

The man is already dead. He is lying in the aisle of the airplane as my daughter trades off on chest compressions with a firefighter and a couple of nurses. “One, two, three…,” they count out loud for each other. Thirty compressions, then two breaths. Thirty compressions, two breaths. The monotony of the counting, the…

Raising a Twinless Twin

The ultrasound technician places the wand on my daughter’s lower abdomen and moves it slowly across taut skin glistening with gel. I’ve been holding my breath since being ushered into the dimly lit cubicle to witness a sonogram that will determine if my daughter is carrying one or more babies. She is a twin, a…