What a Difference a Day Makes
The Vikings are doing their best to lose their big lead for the third week in a row, and all five of the men in my house are asleep this Sunday afternoon. Having four children ages three and under, that doesn’t happen very often. I will use this rare opportunity to begin the story of having and raising triplet boys along with their older brother, Hurricane Axel. It started exactly one year ago. . .
Lying on the table in a dark room with Jesse at my side, we waited for the ultrasound technician to tell us that the baby we were expecting had a strong heartbeat and was otherwise normal for all intents and purposes. I had a feeling something was different about this pregnancy, a feeling I did not share with my husband – no need for him to freak out because I had a hunch, as I could have been wrong! Turns out I was not.
We were familiar with ultrasounds having had a few with our first son. So when the technician fired up the machine and the images were on the screen, our eyes were glued. I immediately saw two babies but kept my mouth shut. So did the tech, for a couple of minutes, as she scanned around my midsection. Then she spoke, and the conversation went like this:
Tech: You’ve got an appointment with your doctor today, right?
Me: Yep, right after this.
Tech: Umm, good. Yeah, you’ve got three in here.
Me: What?!
Tech: I see three babies.
Me: Holy hell.
Jesse: [silence]
Me: Jess?
Jesse: [silence]
Me: Jesse?! Are you okay?
Jesse: What? Uh, yeah. [silence]
The ultrasound tech finished her imaging and sent us upstairs to see the doctor, who congratulated us and sent us on our way. That morning we went from being parents of one to parents of four. Yikes.
We had planned to shop for a new pick-up after the appointment, but realized that would no longer have adequate seating. In less than eight months our family would double in size. Now what? Time for a cocktail, which of course being pregnant was not allowed, even if I really needed one. I think we both did. Seemed Jesse would be drinking for two . . . We headed to Applebee’s for lunch, where we stared at each other and let sink in the news we’d just been given. Triplets.
Big news? Yes. Time to panic? No. What an incredible blessing! We had no idea what lay ahead of us, but we didn’t care. We decided it would work out like it was supposed to and there was nothing we could do but keep it together and press on. So that is what we did.
We shared our “expecting” news with our families the night before, as we needed someone to watch the Hurricane when we went to the ultrasound `appointment. Now it was time to tell them the rest of the story. I called my mom on the way home and told her the news, to which she said nothing. I thought maybe we had been disconnected. She was speechless, and although she’s not a big talker she always puts in her two cents to her children, as most mothers do.
Now to tell the outlaws (what most people call their in-laws). Jesse’s mother, too, had very little to say but tears of joy spoke volumes. His dad, the retired reverend, had perhaps the most memorable reaction we would encounter, which must be censored in a newspaper but, like mine, also started with, “Holy . . .!”
We invited some friends out to supper that night to share our news and, of course, eat. Think you’re hungry? Try eating for four. Since there were only a couple hours in between telling the outlaws and our dinner date that night, we said it was okay to spread the word if they were so inclined. Word beat us uptown to supper, though, and as we casually conversed with our friends someone walked by our table, congratulating us and saying, “Wow!” The rest of the table was visibly curious now. We hadn’t yet disclosed our secret, and so let Axel tell them he was going to be a big brother. Of course they were happy for us, and then we said, “Wait, there’s more.”
“Is it two?” one of them joked. “Nope,” we smiled, “three.” GASP.
“It will be an adventure, that’s for sure,” Jesse laughed.
“For all of us,” someone else said. And so it is. I will tell of that adventure here, weekly, so you can laugh, sympathize, shake your head in disbelief, whatever. You may say to yourself, “I’m glad it’s them and not me,” and that’s okay. It has been quite a year, but we could be in a lot worse shape here. If you are getting a full night’s sleep, though, try not to rub it in.
Ah, the Vikings just lost again. Shocking.
Great column!
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