Adjusting to triplets? Grieving.

This is grieving. I'm clear on that. I am grieving the life I prepared for. The life I agreed to. Triplets were no where on my radar, I didn't even think of the possibility. I'm devouring blogs and literature about raising them, surviving them. Everyone around me seems happy about it except my dad who just seems worried about me. I am grateful to him because I am worried about me too. My mom tries to reassure me that this is "going to be great!" I just can't get into it.

I am uber-sensitive. Anything sets me off. I am jealous of the pregnant women I see, thinking they are having the experience I wanted. I know my babies will most likely be premature, I know I'll have a C-section, I know we could lose them all to pre-term labor. Everyone who tells me it's a triple blessing or God's will makes me irate.

I read about all the things that people with triplets do to get through the first year, I talked to a dad with three beautiful six-year-old boys. Schedule schedule schedule. Don't pick them up to soothe them because it's unsustainable in the long run, just pat their bellies or rub their heads while they sit in their bouncy seats. You must have bouncy seats. You must have bottle holders. You must have reflux wedges. You must NOT have clothes with snaps (one mom of triplets did the math and figured out that she was snapping and unsnapping 900 times per day!!!). 30 bottles a day. 30 diapers a day. One or two hours of sleep a day.

I asked the father (who obviously adores his kids) if he and his wife were able to just enjoy any one baby at a time, just watch them grow and change. He looked at me like I had 3 heads, waved his hand in dismissal, and said, "There's no time for that stuff, you just get through the first year." I went home and cried.

I have a pretty nice life. I've been with my husband for 18 mostly happy years(combining dating and marriage). We love each other deeply and are good partners. I travel when I want and I have a home that reflects who we are and I am surrounded by family, friends, and pets. We have a vegetable garden and a pool membership in the summer and we go sledding in the winter snow. It's a great life. When we decided to change it by having a baby we thought long and hard, many people assumed we'd never do it. Neither of us felt a hole that needed filling. Neither of us felt we'd be empty or miserable if we didn't have a baby. We decided we wanted a child for the love and the experience, for the joy and the challenge. I wanted to see if our baby would get Doug's amazing eyes or my cute nose. The switch just flipped one day.

I imagined all I'd have to give up and I realized I could be happy. I could still be me without the flexibility and the freedom I'd grown used to. I could still be me with less sleep. I could still be me, even if I was filled with the nameless fear of loss and pain I imagine all parents must be filled with. I imagined lying in our bed, sleepy but happy with Doug, just staring down at this little person. It was an intimate image.

Three doesn't seem to leave room for intimacy, just survival. So I'm grieving the life I thought I'd have with one baby. I'm grieving the life I thought I could just agree to. I concede it's a kind of arrogance-imagining I have any idea what it will be like to have even one baby much less three-but I think it's arrogance every first-time parent experiences. So I let myself off the hook and I just grieve.