What could be wrong with my perfect twins?
Iawoke with a start, a dull ache in my back. I blinked. Where was I again?
I looked down at the hospital bracelet around my wrist and then out the window at the hills and stone buildings. Right. I was in Israel, and I had just given birth to twins — a boy and a girl — several hours before.
I should be elated, I thought. But something didn’t feel right.
Born at 36 weeks, the twins were preemies. My son, who had been the bigger, stronger one all along, was taken to the nursery at 2.9 kilos; my daughter, a whole kilo less than her brother, was sent to the pagiyah — as they called the NICU in Shaare Zedek hospital.
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