At my brother’s wedding to my husband’s sister, my mom hit me in the head with a wooden menu board in front of 300 guests – and my water broke on the ballroom floor. I was eight months pregnant with twins, clutching my stomach, feeling warm liquid and something far worse spreading under my chair, while my own family stood there arguing about a missing gold bracelet instead of helping me.
I was eight months pregnant with twins, sitting at the reception table of my brother Tyler’s wedding to my husband Nathan’s sister, Brooke. The Riverside Estate gleamed under chandelier lights, hundreds of guests mingling, unaware that my life was about to shatter. Everything seemed normal until Brooke’s shriek cut through the hum of conversation. “My…