ChezPerky

I never expected parenting triplets +1 to be easy.   And not so long after I had the triplets, my +1 was diagnosed with severe ADHD and dyslexia, so the not so easy pictures I had in my head became even less easy.  In fact, the picture I had in my head of the challenges of parenting triplets +1 were downright frightening.  I was petrified of what lay ahead.  I thought I would never sleep again (not entirely untrue, but I can't blame that entirely on the children…).  I thought my life was pretty much over.  I oculdn't envision ever leaving my house again, ever talking to another adult human being again.   Ever taking a deep breath again. 

Eighteen months later, as I look back…  the truth is, it hasn't been anywhere near as difficult as I expected it to be.  The early months really just weren't nearly as hard as I thought they would be.  Now, I had a horrifically bad picture in my head, so maybe it's just the comparative nature of things that make it seem easy, but honestly?  It just wasn't that hard!  I thought it was because I had easy babies, but when I read back on my journals from that time… well, I had pretty challenging times with babies who didn't want to be put down, and on-demand feeding, growth spurts, mastitis, thrush,  an apnea monitor, a failure to thrive baby, more mastitis, more thrush, more screaming babies who wouldn't be put down, two babies who took a long time to sleep through the night (one who still doesn't)… 

But… really?  It's nothing compared to what I EXPECTED!  So I really thought it was easy.  Truly.   I didn't have much help in the beginning.  Until I went back to work, I didn't have a nanny.  And we made it work and continually amazed each other at how things just fell into place day after day.  Something that HOM parents do is just make things work.  That's how we survive. 

Yesterday, though, yesterday was tougher.  Sam was reacting to the vaccines he'd been given the day before.  He's always the one that reacts to the vaccines.  He had a fever, and he was completely miserable when I got home from work.  I gave him Ibuprofen and held him for a long time while he cried and snuggled.  Finally, I put him down in his crib to sleep for a while, even though it was super early.  This worked until the ibuprofen took his fever down enough that he woke up ready for action.  Meanwhile, the girls were feeling just fine and were into everything.  But Mommy was tired!  I took Sam out of his crib and went into the kitchen to figure out dinner for myself because I had a program to go to for my multiples club that night. 

Though Sam was feeling better, he was still super-clingy and fussy and wouldn't let me put him down. 

Except in the kitchen.

But of course, if he was in the kitchen, the girls wanted to be in the kitchen.  (Do I need to mention that our fearless protagonist – me – already had a pounding headache at the start of this narrative?  No, I didn't think I needed to mention that…)  And then I realized I needed to ask my client a question I hadn't been able to ask while in the office, so since the kids were all quietly amusing themselves by dumping out popcorn and tunafish cans from the cabinets, I thought I was safe.  But, of course, once I got on the phone, Abby wanted Ellie's tuna can, and Sam wanted the broom (which he couldn't reach) and all hell broke loose.  Scream-fest in my kitchen.  Then they started dumping out the other cabinets.  And this one wanted that measuring cup and that one wanted the other one's bowl.  And he wanted the tupperware on his head, but when it got stuck, the screaming got louder.  Then he whirled around and hit both of his sisters with the broom handle.  Accidentally, of course.  And more screaming ensued.

Getting out of the kitchen became my Prime Directive.  But they were having None of That.  No Way, Mommy.  The kitchen, while full of hazards, is way too fun!

Soon I called Michelle, who has nearly-three-year-old triplets:

"You know?  This parenting triplets thing?  It's not so easy!"
"Finally figuring that out, are you?"
"Well it was easy until today!"
"It could be worse!  You could have had a day like mine!"

Great.  You mean it doesn't get easier in a year and a half?  Faaaabulous.

I twittered away my frustration, which updated my Facebook status.  "This parenting triplets thing isn't so easy!" I said (or something like that).  Later I clarified that in fact, it's not so much the triplets thing that's challenging, but the toddler thing that's challenging.  Tripled. 

And then?  Someone commented and said, "You could give them away. They're still young, they'll forget you. ;("

*Gasp*

And now I remember why it is that I don't blog so often anymore.  Because people just don't take my posts for what they really are … a tiny little snapshot of my life.  A little sliver of my reality, but never, ever, a real look at the whole thing.  That moment in time was not easy.  And I know that by saying it out loud I opened myself up to people thinking that I meant that parenting in general is hard.  And I know that person was joking.  But… seriously?  Who says such a horrible thing?  It just sliced right through me.  I literally had the breath knocked out of me when I read that.

I wonder, sometimes, what people must think of me… because I don't try to sugarcoat things in my blog.  I write about when I'm frustrated, just as much as I write about when I'm joyful.  If I didn't, this would be a disingenuous account of life as a mom of four (so far).  But maybe by doing so… maybe I give the wrong impression.  Because you should know… I'm always joyful.  I am always joyful to be the mother to these four miracles.  They are so amazing.

More to come soon…  the trio turned 18 months and had their 18 mo. check up this week, so I've got stats to come.  Haven't taken any recent pictures, but I'm sure I can figure that out soon enough!

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Mother’s Day has always been a weird day for me. Well, I suppose not always. Maybe just since I started trying to have kids? Was there life before TTC? I can’t remember it. I’ve never been one to wallow on Mother’s Day and I know that for many infertile myrtles this day is an incredibly painful day. I didn’t find it painful before I became a mother, I just found it… uncomfortable. Like I didn’t really know my place in the world. Certainly I had my own mother to celebrate, and that was enough reason not to hide from the day, but there were pangs of emptiness in my heart for what I was missing, of course.

Then we got J. But even then, my first Mother’s Day with him was odd. I wasn’t quite a mother. I was a guardian. That first year with him, well, it was temporary. We were never supposed to have him permanently, and we knew that we only had another 6 months with him, at best, so Mother’s Day for me that year was excrutiating. It was all I could do to pick up the phone and acknowledge my own mother. Others were thoughtful enough to acknowledge that year as my first Mother’s Day, but I couldn’t think of it that way, knowing that it could all be ripped away from me. I was so emotionally guarded then, as I’m sure you can imagine. By the second year that we had J, when we still weren’t sure how long we would have him, I readily acknowleged my role as “mother”, but it was still an odd day. I wasn’t his “real” mother, of course, but I was his mother. But I’d sort of missed the opportunity to celebrate my “first” Mother’s Day, hadn’t I? And so it went. Now it seems likely that we’ll have him forever, and there isn’t a single piece of me that considers myself anything less than his “real” mother. I am the only mother he knows and I deserve that title in full.

Then in August 2006 I got pregnant, and I was due at the end of April, and I thought how nice it would be to be due just in time to have Mother’s Day shortly thereafter. Even I was shocked at the brazenness of such a thought, so I quickly followed the thought with, “You know, if I make it that far.” Of course, I didn’t make it that far. I made it three months and then miscarried. So much for that thought. Serves me right for thinking like that, right? But I suppose all things happen for a reason, because if I hadn’t had that miscarriage, I wouldn’t have been able to get pregnant the following February with these amazing triplets, right?

I frankly don’t remember last Mother’s Day. I’m sure I was throwing up or on bed rest or something. But most of last year is a blur, so that’s no surprise. But this year? This year was just… well, it was my fourth mother’s day, but also my FIRST mother’s day. And while I still feel the emptiness of infertility sometimes, today I held my children in my arms and told them how much I love them and I told them how long I’ve waited to hold my babies on Mother’s Day. And I told J that some children grow in mommies’ bellies, and some children grow in mommies’ hearts, and I’m so grateful that G*d chose me to take care of him.

For a long time I cried every day with emptiness and sorrow for the children I did not have. Today, like nearly every day since September 19th, I wiped away tears of joy and gratitude for the children I do have. Infertility still plagues me. I’m not done with this albatross that hangs around my neck and I know I want more children and I know I’ll be going through this purgatory again soon. But I know now, looking at my babies, that I have the strength to make it through infertility hell again. Because I know what the light at the end of the tunnel shines on.

I know for so many of you out there, your struggle is still going on, and this day is as painful as ever. I’m mindful of the fact that my blog is more of a mom-blog than an infertility blog these days, and I know that changes my readership to some extent, but I also know I’ve got some infertility-bloggers that are still reading. I pray for you every day that your struggle should come to an end soon and that you should experience that blessing of motherhood (or fatherhood) as soon as possible. I was lucky enough to experience motherhood before I got pregnant, so I had a glimpse into the joy that was ahead of me, but still… I know not everyone has the same experiences that I have. I hope that your journey through infertility is a short one, and if it’s already been a long journey (it’s always too long, of course), I hope that it ends soon.

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Mother's Day has always been a weird day for me. Well, I suppose not always. Maybe just since I started trying to have kids? Was there life before TTC? I can't remember it. I've never been one to wallow on Mother's Day and I know that for many infertile myrtles this day is an incredibly painful day. I didn't find it painful before I became a mother, I just found it… uncomfortable. Like I didn't really know my place in the world. Certainly I had my own mother to celebrate, and that was enough reason not to hide from the day, but there were pangs of emptiness in my heart for what I was missing, of course.

Then we got J. But even then, my first Mother's Day with him was odd. I wasn't quite a mother. I was a guardian. That first year with him, well, it was temporary. We were never supposed to have him permanently, and we knew that we only had another 6 months with him, at best, so Mother's Day for me that year was excrutiating. It was all I could do to pick up the phone and acknowledge my own mother. Others were thoughtful enough to acknowledge that year as my first Mother's Day, but I couldn't think of it that way, knowing that it could all be ripped away from me. I was so emotionally guarded then, as I'm sure you can imagine. By the second year that we had J, when we still weren't sure how long we would have him, I readily acknowleged my role as "mother", but it was still an odd day. I wasn't his "real" mother, of course, but I was his mother. But I'd sort of missed the opportunity to celebrate my "first" Mother's Day, hadn't I? And so it went. Now it seems likely that we'll have him forever, and there isn't a single piece of me that considers myself anything less than his "real" mother. I am the only mother he knows and I deserve that title in full.

Then in August 2006 I got pregnant, and I was due at the end of April, and I thought how nice it would be to be due just in time to have Mother's Day shortly thereafter. Even I was shocked at the brazenness of such a thought, so I quickly followed the thought with, "You know, if I make it that far." Of course, I didn't make it that far. I made it three months and then miscarried. So much for that thought. Serves me right for thinking like that, right? But I suppose all things happen for a reason, because if I hadn't had that miscarriage, I wouldn't have been able to get pregnant the following February with these amazing triplets, right?

I frankly don't remember last Mother's Day. I'm sure I was throwing up or on bed rest or something. But most of last year is a blur, so that's no surprise. But this year? This year was just… well, it was my fourth mother's day, but also my FIRST mother's day. And while I still feel the emptiness of infertility sometimes, today I held my children in my arms and told them how much I love them and I told them how long I've waited to hold my babies on Mother's Day. And I told J that some children grow in mommies' bellies, and some children grow in mommies' hearts, and I'm so grateful that G*d chose me to take care of him.

For a long time I cried every day with emptiness and sorrow for the children I did not have. Today, like nearly every day since September 19th, I wiped away tears of joy and gratitude for the children I do have. Infertility still plagues me. I'm not done with this albatross that hangs around my neck and I know I want more children and I know I'll be going through this purgatory again soon. But I know now, looking at my babies, that I have the strength to make it through infertility hell again. Because I know what the light at the end of the tunnel shines on.

I know for so many of you out there, your struggle is still going on, and this day is as painful as ever. I'm mindful of the fact that my blog is more of a mom-blog than an infertility blog these days, and I know that changes my readership to some extent, but I also know I've got some infertility-bloggers that are still reading. I pray for you every day that your struggle should come to an end soon and that you should experience that blessing of motherhood (or fatherhood) as soon as possible. I was lucky enough to experience motherhood before I got pregnant, so I had a glimpse into the joy that was ahead of me, but still… I know not everyone has the same experiences that I have. I hope that your journey through infertility is a short one, and if it's already been a long journey (it's always too long, of course), I hope that it ends soon.

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