PART 1: THE BREAK I HADN’T “EARNED”
After five years of fertility treatments, I finally became pregnant with triplets.
When the doctor found the third heartbeat, my husband, Ryan, cried beside me. He kept repeating that he could not believe we were going to have three babies.
When Luna, Soleil, and Bodhi were born, they were tiny, noisy, and perfect.
The delivery was difficult, and my recovery was even harder. But once we returned home, nearly every responsibility became mine.
I handled the feedings, bottles, diapers, laundry, cooking, cleaning, and sleepless nights. Ryan went back to work and acted as though earning a paycheck had completed his part of parenting.
One night, I sat on the bathroom floor eating half a granola bar while my hands shook from exhaustion.
Luna was crying. Soleil had just fallen asleep. Bodhi had soaked through another outfit.
I needed one quiet minute.
