I spent the first half of my 20’s traveling, seeking new life experiences and taking college classes. I didn’t return to my home state, to attend college full-time, until I was 25. I spent a few years as a full-time student. I completed my undergraduate studies and went straight into a master’s degree program. My biological clock didn’t start ticking until my early 30’s, after I was finished with my master’s degree and engaged. By the time I was 33 I was really eager to be a mother, but I knew there would be challenges conceiving. My fiancée went through testicular cancer at the end of our 20’s and the only way we would be able to have a baby would be to do in-vitro fertilization (IVF). We were married shortly before I turned 34 and began the process of IVF. Six months later I received the magical call from my doctor. “Lanelle, you’re pregnant. Your hormone levels are high, so there’s likely more than one.” I excitedly said, “You mean twins?” My doctor replied, “Twins…or more.” I was so excited, though some of my initial thoughts were “what if’s.” “What if one, or more, of our three transferred embryos splits into identical twins? What if there are so many babies some aren’t healthy? What if one dies?” A multitude of thoughts went through my head, and I decided I was simply going to go with the flow and accept whatever came my way. I was only 7 weeks pregnant when an internal ultrasound curbed some of my anticipation. The picture of my uterus on the screen showed three little “circles.” Each circle had a little “peanut” in it. Triplets! That was the beginning of a fascinating journey full of excitement, as well as some trepidation. In the end I was one of the lucky ones. My babies were born on their scheduled due date and all were healthy. Two girls and a boy, and nobody was identical.
Before and during my pregnancy I vowed to “not sweat the small stuff.” I told myself I would not be overwhelmed by the chaos multiples would bring. I vowed to be patient, use every possible experience to teach my children and give them the best possible chance of growing up happy and healthy. Thinking back to those promises I made makes me smile. My ignorance was definitely blissful! My plans for the “perfect” family didn’t materialize quite as I’d planned.
After delivering my three precious babies I knew life, as I’d known it, would never be the same. I’d anticipated that, and welcomed it. I didn’t mind my busy, chaotic life. I loved taking care of the babies. Loved the special bond I had with each one. Didn’t mind the lack of sleep. I went back to work when the babies were 3 months old. I was fortunate to be able to cram all 40 hours of work into three days. I worked two 14-hour shifts and a 12-hour shift…with a 1.5 rush hour commute to work, and an hour drive home at night. I didn’t mind making sacrifices-I loved it. I wanted to be the primary person caring for my babies. When I was working my retired parents came and stayed at my house and took care of the babies. After a while my mother-in-law cared for the babies part of the time. When the babies were 2 ½ my mother-in-law decided to divorce her husband and asked if she could move in with me, my husband and our trio. The situation was a bit sticky. My husband said he couldn’t turn his mother away. She became the caregiver while I was working. I resented not having my parents around as much, because we shared such joy in our experiences with the children. I had never seen my father more animated or so obviously in love. I didn’t have my parents around on a regular basis, and my mother-in-law was always around. My parents never asked for anything for their help. My mother-in-law not only needed to live with us, but also needed to be paid for watching the babies. My parents were wonderful help around the house and would voluntarily do things they saw needed to be done. I missed my parents’ help. I missed being able to have “alone time” with my children, and missed having the rare, occasional moment to be lost in my own thoughts. My mother, when she was around, tended to be controlling and often domineering. Her “type A” personality. She was often a challenge to deal with, but her “type A” ways also led to her taking some of the burden off of me. When something needed to be done my mom was the type to notice it and take care of it. That was a comfort.
There were a few things I learned about life with multiples. The main thing? If you don’t take careful steps to prevent it…divorce is imminent! My husband and I had different expectations about responsibility. When I had babies life was no longer about me. My sense of responsibility never ended. My sense of duty was ever-present. My husband, on the other hand, had no problem vanishing from the scene, only to be found playing games on the computer or doing something else he enjoyed. He didn’t have a problem leaving for an entire day to go fishing, or leaving for 10 days to go on a fishing trip. I never felt that “me time” was an option. Frankly, I didn’t want “me time.” I got what I’d wished for-times three! I didn’t want to miss a precious moment with my babies. I knew they would only be tiny once and that the time couldn’t be recaptured. My husband didn’t seem to share the same enthusiasm about our family. That fostered a level of resentment I couldn’t move past. He didn’t see things that needed to be done and pitch in to help. He didn’t wake up when a baby made noise in the baby monitor. He joked with our neighbor that he didn’t need to pick up the dog poop in our yard because he knew my father (in his 70’s) would take care of it, as he always did. My husband was not the person I could count on. I didn’t feel like he was a partner.
Separation/divorce happened when the triplets were 3. The major contributors, in my eyes, were:
-The almost constant family presence in our household. He and I had virtually no time to openly communicate because someone was always there.
-My husband’s inconsistent work schedule. We didn’t always have weekends off together so it made planning things difficult.
-His different sense of responsibility and lack of enthusiasm. When he was home he spent most of his time hidden in his office or sleeping.
-My sense of duty/responsibility. I didn’t take good care of myself. I didn’t do anything to cultivate my friendships or have a sense of identity other than that of “mother.”
If I’d known, then, what I know now I’d have had some advice to follow.
My advice:
- 1) Don’t sweat the small stuff! I was good about not “sweating” things when the kids were little…but I wasn’t good about relaxing my expectations of my husband or my view of the “perfect” family.
- 2) Keep your home a haven/sanctuary for your family. Make sure you and your mate have ample time together without outside forces (other family members) around.
- 3) Take care of yourself and learn to feed your soul with something other than your identity as “mother.” I always felt guilty and thought of that as selfish. If I’d taken care of myself I would’ve been a better partner and more content.
- 4) Keep it simple! Things don’t have to be “perfect.” Making things easy minimizes stress and gives you a chance to focus on the little joys in life.
- 5) Have fun! Unless the universe has something unheard of in store for you…you will not have a set of multiples again. Cherish the moments. Laugh when you can and play/be silly with your kids as often as possible!
Avery, Gannon and Peyton are 6 now. Three first-graders in three separate classes. The past few years have been big learning experiences for me. Divorce resulted in 50/50 custody of the children. I had to learn what to do with “me time” again, and had to get used to kid-free weekends…with no chaos and a silent household. I even learned to date again! I discovered there was more to my identity than “mother of triplets.” I’ve had to remind myself to have fun and not sweat the small stuff. Some times are easier than others. I’ve allowed myself to not be “perfect.” I cherish the time with my children. Watching the people they’ve become and seeing them evolve has been amazing. The household has been busy with frequent visits from the tooth fairy. Homework battles can be hell. Two out of three have already had a broken bone (my niece joked that I need to put my other daughter in a bubble to protect her). My house is often the neighborhood hub for kids. It’s not uncommon for there to be 6-10 kids around, and I wouldn’t have it any other way!
