Back at the hospital. Emily and I had another scare. It was like déjà vu: This morning (it's a beautiful Sunday), I had just showered and put on fresh clothes when I felt that familiar warm trickle. It's not a feeling you want to be familiar with. I went to the bathroom and saw what I expected: lots of blood. I called Emily, who was at the grocery store. "I'm bleeding again," I told her through quiet tears. "You have to come get me."
We made the same silent ride into Manhattan that we made less than two weeks ago, wondering if we could possibly be as lucky the second time around as we had the first. Could the boys handle this second trauma? Emily's breath took on the same soft panting quality it had the last time. There was too much about this day that was familiar.