when all three cried at once.
I would sit on the nursery floor surrounded by babies and cry with them.
“I know,” I would whisper. “Mommy’s trying.”
My maternity leave was mostly unpaid.
Bills arrived whether Adam did or not.
Rent.
Electricity.
Medical expenses.
Formula.
Diapers.
More formula.
More diapers.
Nora organized a meal train among our friends.
My older aunt, June, stayed with me several evenings a week.
A retired woman who lived downstairs started knocking on my door every afternoon.
Her name was Mrs. Henderson.
The first time she came upstairs, she held out a casserole and said, “I raised four children. You have six hands’ worth of babies and only two hands. That math doesn’t work. Give me one.”
Before I could answer, she picked up Ashton.
She became part of our family after that.
Still, help came in hours.
Motherhood lasted twenty-four of them every day.
