I write so often about the fleetingness of time, of the preciousness of every little thing. This morning I realize that so much of it was just words. You just can’t really know until death whispers at your door. For me it wasn’t until… They shielded my babies. The clots filled my hands. The blood flowed over my lap. I couldn’t move as fast as their faces showed I should. My friend said in a faraway place, “You are still bleeding.” I didn’t get it until the blood wouldn’t just wash away as I expected, instead it plumed around me in the water. The color as dark as the shadow Sean cast over me as he said we had to get to the hospital.…