Three at Once

My little sister called me in February to tell me she was pregnant. Then she said, "With three." I made her repeat it twice.

The triplets were born in September: two girls and a boy, each small enough to fit in my hands. I took two weeks off work and moved into her guest room. I've never been so tired, or so happy, in my life.

Our days were a blur of bottles, diapers and lullabies. We developed a system: whiteboards, color-coded onesies and a spreadsheet tracking every feeding. My brother-in-law called it "mission control."

One night, at three in the morning, all three babies fell asleep at the same time. My sister and I sat on the couch with one baby each on our chests and the third between us in a bouncer. We didn't talk. We just listened to them breathe. She whispered, "I couldn't do this without you." I whispered back, "You don't have to."

I'm officially Aunt Number One. I have a mug that says so.