Lucille carefully positions herself near the head of the bed in the sturdy wooden chair. She gently brushes stay hair from Sister Hilda's braid off her cheek. She squeezes her colleagues hand reassuringly.

"What if I am unable to treat them justly because of bias…" she trails off.

"You're worried that the circumstances of conception will color your ability to parent them?"

"Aye," Sister Hilda nods subtly as her eyes begin to fill with tears.

"The good news is that there is an entire group of us who are here to love and support the three of you."

"Sister Julienne had to bribe Sister Monica Joan away from them this evening with the promise of baked goods."

"I heard that she is completely enamored with them."

"Indeed," she nods.

"I get the impression there is something else troubling you that you are feeling relatively vulnerable about."

"All of it is unpleasantly vulnerable."

"We don't have to discuss it if you would prefer not to."

Sister Hilda breaks eye contact, "What if the world treats them unfairly? Yesterday I was worried that I couldn't love them. Today I am terrified by how much I love them, and want to protect them. I don't want them to experience unnecessary pain, but it seems their very existence is painful. What am I supposed to say to them when they are old enough to ask me how they got here?"

"You just tell them that their mother loved them so much that you couldn't live another day without them."

"I am not sure I am built for the task."

"The world is not owed an explanation about their presence."

"Times might be changing, but judgment fades far slower than progress is made."

"I know."

Sister Hilda's brow furrows as she glances at her sleeping babies. She refuses to meet Lucille's glance. "You know all too well, and that is what worries me. What kind of world are they going to face?"

"Whatever one you create for them."

"There are answers I don't have for them."

"Perhaps we should get you ready for bed," Lucille suggests.

"I noticed the look in your eyes when you were silently examining them."

"They are just so small, and a precious," Lucille reassures her.

"I need honesty, Lucille."

"They appear healthy despite their early arrival."

"And?"

"I was just admiring how soft, and precious their skin is."

"I would really appreciate if everyone would stop tiptoeing around the elephants in the room."

"I don't want to upset you. I really don't want to say, or inquire about something that is totally off base. Your day has been eventful enough without me traumatizing you in anyway."

"To answer the question you refuse to ask, I don't know. I could not pinpoint ethnicity, but I would confidently say that the pair of them are a mix of more than one."

"That isn't going to bother me. Everyone is going to have questions. The best thing is to know your own boundaries. What are you willing, and able to share with the world to keep them safe, happy, and healthy?"

Sister Hilda nods in agreement.

"You look pretty exhausted. I should leave you to rest."

"I had hoped someone might be able to assist me with transitioning into a semi-normal human being."

"I am not sure anyone who has voluntarily chosen midwifery would be considered a normal human being. If you require assistance with getting cleaned up I am confident I can assist with that."

"Can I just say that I am particularly disdainful of the role I am currently cast? The feeling utterly helpless part of this equation. Whilst part of my body contract other portions simultaneously feel as stable as gelatin. It is utterly unnerving."

"Are you suggesting that you are not enjoying being a patient?"

"I desperately just want to walk down the hall and sink into the bath. I can scarcely rise to my feet without assistance."

"So let's get you tidied up, and ready for bed. You require rest."


She is awakened by a pair of bright eyes. Sister Monica Joan gleefully assists her into a sitting position.

"I have brought your morning nourishment," she grins as she places the tray on her lap.

Sister Hilda pushes aside hair that has adhered to her face with a mix of sweat, and drool. Her eyes shift briefly to the tray of breakfast in front of her.

"I'm too tired," she argues.

Sister Monica Joan glances at her watch. "You have sixteen minutes to eat before they wake up."

Sister Hilda furrows her brow, "There is no way you can possibly know that."

"They sleep two hours, and forty seven minutes between feedings. You require nourishment. If that is too taxing I suggest you begin with your tea before it grows cold."

Sister Hilda reluctantly sips the brew, scowling as Sister Monica Joan joyfully takes a seat between the bed, and the basinet.

"Were you in here last feeding?" Sister Hilda racks her unreliable memory.

"Who else do you think made their nappies disappear?"

She shrugs, "I don't know. I am just so tired. My body aches all over, and I have never been this tired in my entire life."

"Less talking, Sister Hilda. You have two mistresses to attend to very shortly."

"I dreamt one of them was a wolf, and she was howling at the moon."

Sister Monica Joan smiles, "I wasn't personally present, but it is my understanding that Trixie was on midnight shift, and baby B was indeed howling at the moon. Trixie is slightly concerned baby B may have a dislocated shoulder. Doctor Turner should be making a stop on his way to the clinic this morning."

"I see."

"We really should discern what their names are, shouldn't we?"

"I've given it much thought."

"Delightful. I am quite eager to hear what you've come up with."

"I've got absolutely nothing."