In mid-October 1969, my twin daughters were born a month early. After a few days in the hospital, we brought them home.

What followed were days and nights filled with them drinking only an ounce or two of formula before falling asleep. We would feed one while the other slept, but often the second one woke just as we’d finish feeding the first one. My husband and I walked around like a couple of zombies.

Thanksgiving was to be the first outing for the twins. It would be an opportunity for the extended family to meet them.

As would be expected, they both needed formula before we left. When we reached my mother’s house, dinner was nearly ready.

When we walked in the door, there was a mad dash to see who could get a baby first. My husband and I soon had empty arms, so we took advantage of some “down” time and sat together on the sofa.

Cries coming from a hungry baby in the dining room stirred us

When we reached the dining room, we saw that only crumbs, spots of gravy, and napkins with various stains remained on the table.

“Is dinner ready?” we asked.

The family members, laughing, replied, “We’ve had dinner. The two of you fell asleep on the sofa. We didn’t have the heart to wake you. But don’t worry, we have plates of food saved for you.”

It was the first time in weeks that we were relaxed and enjoyed a warm meal without holding a baby. We definitely had something to be thankful for.