Yeah, I’m coming in hot with the hard-hitting revelations. It’s been a minute since I’ve updated this and the title is a neat clue as to why. Speaking of titles, it kind of covers the gist of this one. If you’re not much of a reader, you can either bail, since you already know all I have to offer, or scroll through and look at baby pictures. You know, everyone’s favorite thing ever.
I had a feeling adding one more baby on top of Taylor and Mallory would be an exponential increase in difficulty, not an incremental one. It turns out that was true and then some. Let’s take a quick look at all the mini blessings we encounter every day! (In no particular order)
- Trying to grab a wipe before your baby kicks their foot into their poop when every wipe in the container comes along for the ride.
- Guessing who’s going to meltdown first at feed time. Of course, getting it wrong, which means you’ll be listening to a baby scream their head off while the one you’re feeding decides to really dig in and savor the moment.
- The smell of baby formula. It’s nasty.
- Also, the smell of Hannah’s extra sensitive formula. Shortly after her first serving, I’m hit with the vague smell of cheap, fast food fries. Truly a mystery since all I’ve eaten at that point is a banana, and Rachel is still asleep. Of course, weird is the new normal now, so I just ignored it. It wasn’t until I was cleaning bottles later that I caught the smell of fries again. From Hannah’s bottle. Not the good part of fries, though. It’s that weird smell lingering in the background. Luckily that sensitive formula was retired since it wasn’t helping, and Hannah is no longer called “french fries.”
- Dressing babies sucks. I’m pretty sure anyone that has gone on about how fun it is to dress them up is gaslighting me. Because changing their little outfits is super low down on my favorite things to do list. They squirm so much. Also, what’s with them deciding to practice jazz hands when you’re trying to put a sleeve on?
- The once adorably-bad-at-everything pacifier spitting out that the girls did in the hospital kind of lost the adorable. Especially when each baby is melting down because they accidentally spit their pacifier out, again. They’ll usually wait to do this until you’re tied up feeding one of their sisters.
- Multiple randos pointing out that “you’re gonna have your hands full” at every doctor’s visit. Thanks for the insight, bud.
- Mommy blogs. God help you if you’re trying to decode something and turn to the internet. One I stumbled on (which is more of a forum, but whatever) does this thing where they call all daughters “DD”, sons are “DS”, and husbands are “DH.” Now, what the heck do those stand for? Dear Daughter, Dear Son, Dear Husband. This is always denoted in parenthesis immediately after the acronym spelling it out. While I assume it’s some bot that is adding a translation, I can’t get over the irony of it adding a lot more characters than if they had just said “my dear daughter” or hell, maybe explore being direct and just say “my daughter.”
- Speaking of mommy blogs. Like, I get I’m not the audience for a lot of reasons. But boy is it frustrating when you have a problem you’re trying to solve, and all the SEO winners have to offer is “get your hubby to help out for a while and take a break!”
It’s not all bad. This is just a tough stage since all the preemie baby problems are on full display—specifically, reflux. If I were to tell parents of triplets one thing, it’s that the first few months will be feeding babies always and forever while doing a ton of laundry.
A weird challenge we’ll have is dealing with other people. Because everyone feels compelled to make comments, supportive comments to be sure, ones I would probably make myself. It’s just going to be an adjustment having the same conversations everywhere we go. Over and over. So, if you say “triple the blessing!” and get a flat response, I’m sorry. I’m just adjusting to a lot all at once.
Baby Stats!
Ok, let’s take a look at some babies.
Taylor is our big chunk at 11 pounds. She’s typically the easiest outside of the daily total-feed evacuation. She is also extra clingy loves to be held all the time.
Mallory is just behind Taylor in size at 10.5 pounds. Her entire existence is staring at things. She’s also the loudest crier by far.
Hannah is still doing her best. She’s a little behind her sisters, but it’s not her fault. Hannah was the smallest, and still is at 8 pounds. She’s got some catching up to do.
They are starting to smile now, which is fun. Taylor is the most reliable with it, but they’ll all throw a big grin your way at times. It’s nice to add something other than crying to their self-expression options. Sneezing is also a big part of their lives. They’re so dramatic with them too; it’s a full-body effort for every sneeze. Holy crap, do they love to stare. Any moment a baby is awake, you better believe she’s staring at you. Also, all the freaking baby farts. Who would have thought they’d fart so much?
Us?
We’re ok, I guess, just worn out. Considering we both just went back to work, I have a feeling we’ll find a new definition for “worn out.” We’re still rocking sleeping in shifts. It’s that, or neither of us sleeps ever. In exchange for some longer sleep blocks, we have to do a lot of solo triplet care. Even when you win, you lose, right?
Kay that’s all I’ve got, I’m going to wrap this otherwise I sit on it for another week.