Motherhood as Muse

1.
We were living in Philadelphia with our twin 13-month-old daughters when one night I returned from the store to find my husband holding E, her face blue. Her arms and legs made a slow but steady jerk jerk jerk, only her eyes were closed and when we lifted her lids the pupils darted back and forth. I called 911 while my husband bent over, put his mouth over my daughter’s, and breathed.

But just like a story that I cannot forget, the moment that haunts me is E’s first seizure. I remember the sound of the approaching ambulance screaming down the street, the sight of my husband walking down the hall ramrod straight with our unconscious daughter in his arms.

I ran out in the hall, knocked on our neighbor’s door. Then another. Our other daughter was asleep in her crib.  I waited for someone to answer their door, to ask, How can we help?

No one did.

Back in the apartment I walked