The moment I walked into the bedroom, I knew the twins were gone. I tried my best to hold my composure, as if everything was alright, but I believed deep down that we lost our twins. All I could do was pray that I was wrong, that somehow Amy could bleed so much, and everything would still turn out fine.
Blood was all over Amy, the sheets, the floor, and anything Amy touched. The bedroom looked like a murder scene. Normally, blood would make me sick, but this was a high pressured situation and I was in go mode. I gave Amy the towels and made sure she physically felt ok. Then my focus turned to getting to the hospital.