The first contraction felt like a warning. The second didn’t. By the third, I could hardly stand. I gripped the edge of the counter, whispering, “It’s time,” and watched my husband reach for the keys like the man I married—the one who said he’d be ready at a moment’s notice when our twins decided to meet the world. We made it as far as the door. “Where are you trying to go?” his mother called from the hallway, stepping neatly between me and the garage. Behind her, his sister twirled a brand-new