Julie Hatch

Writing about letting go, especially at the end of the year and the beginning of a new one, is pretty cliché.

Out at the nurse’s station, the level of nervous activity and high-pitched chatter sounded an alarm in my head. “Twins born at home?” I asked the charge nurse. That wasn’t such a big deal. But her reply is what knocked me off kilter. “Yeah,” she answered, “twenty-three weeks.” My heart dropped, and my adrenaline surged.

Sounds obvious, but for me it recently rang especially true. I remember anticipating the day my youngest child would be graduating from high school and moving on to college. I believed that this would be my time of freedom