listed on the hospital paperwork.
June.
Ava.
Claire.
Vanessa had chosen them before leaving.
For a moment, I considered changing them.
Then I realized the names belonged to the babies now.
Not to Vanessa.
So I kept them.
The first year nearly broke me.
Someone was always hungry.
Someone was always crying.
Someone always needed changing.
Sometimes all three cried at once.
Sometimes I joined them.
There were nights when I stood in the kitchen at three in the morning holding a bottle in one hand while bouncing a screaming baby with the other, wondering how anyone survived parenthood with just one child.
I learned to sleep in fragments.
I learned which cry meant hungry and which meant tired.
I learned how to carry two babies at once while keeping the third within sight.
I learned more about diapers than any single man should ever know.
I also learned fear
