Seventeen years ago today I gave birth to the twins, Samuel and Jonathan. Their birth was a comedy of errors starting with Rachael,then three, throwing up all over her parka, which meant that she stayed in the car with Elsa, who was almost two, while I tried to get the attention of someone to let us into our condo. I didn't have my key with me, David was at a meeting, and his sister Cynthia had given us a ride home. So I was ringing doorbells, starting with Hal, one of the nice people who lived on the first floor. Hal thought I made a mistake in ringing his bell and went back to watching TV. Meanwhile, the girls managed to shift Cynthia's big, gold mercedes into neutral and Cynthia and I turned around in time to see it slowly rolling backwards down the hill. I believe that angels helped Cynthia fly down the steps and get into the moving vehicle in the nick of time to save the girls from breaking their necks- they were picking up speed and heading for a crash into some cement stairs. I kept saying "this night couldn't get any worse". A few hours later I went into labor and delivered the twins.
Jonathan was a surprise.