As I was wiping banana off my clothes and my daughter's face this morning (she has discovered the art of blowing raspberries, and is determined to practice it while she is eating,) I was struck by how 'normal' everything seems. And I was reminded of how amazing the journey was to get her here. Mackay was a twin. While I was standing in the kitchen one morning last July, my water broke. I was about 18 1/2 weeks along. I'd like to say that I handled this crisis with some sort of control and dignity, but I was an absolute blubbering wreck. A dear friend drove me to the hospital, picking up my husband, who had just stepped onto a BART train, on the way. The perinatal doctor on call determined that my water had only broken for one twin (our son), but that the other baby's amniotic sac was still intact. They gave us 0% chance of survival for the boy, and less than 5% for the girl. In fact, one doctor told us that our best chance of a successful delivery was to terminate a...