Triplets Make Five

by Nicole Elliot

  I wanted Preston to love me the way I loved him.

  I needed answers. As I hunkered back down into bed and tried to close my eyes, I knew I would have to ask him about it. These babies would be here in a few days and I needed to know how to proceed. I needed to know if I had a future with him or if he was set on simply being a co-parent.

  My eyes watered at the idea of not having him, but it was no longer in my control. This entire scenario was because I had tried to keep him at arm’s length, so I had no right to complain when my plan failed with me but worked with him.

  I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, dreaming of a new day. A day when I could hold my children in my arms, feed them from my breast, and see Preston standing at the door grinning at the sight. I dreamt of lying in his arms, rolling around with him in bed as our bodies writhed together. I dreamed of the life we could live. The vacations we could take and the home we could build.

  I dreamt of him telling me he loved me every night as we fell asleep, his lips never leaving my body and hands always digging into his strength.

  Twenty-Five

  Preston

  “You said this was just a routine checkup,” Delilah said.

  “It was. But they’ve found some issues with your placenta that are worrying them. That’s why they’ve admitted you,” I said.

  “‘Routine’ means that things are supposed to be normal.”

  “No. ‘Routine’ means it’s a regular occurrence. And it’s because of these reasons why they are regular,” I said.

  I brought Delilah back into the hospital for her routine checkup and her steroid shot, and they ended up admitting her. There was a shadow in her uterus they couldn’t explain on the ultrasound, so they admitted her to run more tests. I knew Delilah was freaking out, but she was encasing it in anger. She was huge, she was retaining fluid, and her heart rate was higher than it needed to be.

  “Should I call your parents?” I asked.

  “I don’t care what you do. I don’t know if they’re fighting or if they’re okay. So whatever happens when they get here is on you,” she said.

  I got on the phone with them and told them what was going on. I booked them a hotel room and sent them the receipt for their airline tickets. I wanted them on standby in case something happened with Delilah. In case these kids came early than expected.

  And I was glad I did.

  As I was getting Delilah and I dinner that night from her favorite restaurant across town, I got a call from the doctor. Delilah had been rushed into an emergency c-section, and she was crying for me. I dropped the food I was carrying and raced for my car, calling Delilah’s parents who had just landed. I told them to get to the hospital as quickly as they could as I raced across town, then tossed my phone in the backseat of my car.

  I raced to the O.R. and scrubbed in for the surgery. Delilah was refusing to have it done, even though the doctors were insistent. I got down by her head and kissed her cheeks, coaxing her to a point of relaxation as monitors beeped around us. Her heart rate was soaring and her skin was hot. I kept her attention on me as the doctor’s cut into her, trying to free our children from a body that had been put under so much pressure.

  I kissed Delilah’s tears away, and in that moment I wanted to tell her how I felt.

  I wanted to tell her that I had fallen in love with her. That somehow, between the foot rubs and sleeping apart and fighting over how to make all of this work, I had given myself over to her. I wanted to tell her that she had eroded my walls beyond recognition and planted herself into a place I kept heavily guarded for a reason.

  But as I dipped my lips to her ear to tell her, monitors started beeping.

  “Her heart rate’s plummeting. Get those babies out of there.”

  “We need two pints of blood. O negative, as fast as you can get it.”

  “We’ve got two babies. I’m still pulling one out. Give me a second!”

  “Sir, we need you out of the room. We need you to leave.”

  I felt someone’s hand come down on my shoulder as I watched Delilah seize on the operating table. I was screaming for her, trying to push the doctors off my body. Delilah needed me. She needed my comfort and my strength. She was dying, bleeding out on a table giving birth to my children and they were trying to take me away from her.

  “Delilah!” I roared. “Delilah! Wake up!”

  “Get him out of here!” a doctor shouted.

  “I’ve got the third baby out!”

  I could hear the babies crying as I was shoved out into the hallway. The door was slammed in my face as I banged on it with my fists. I moved around and saw her body lying open on the table as my knees grew weak.

  My Delilah. She was alone and scared, and there was nothing I could do for her.

  I saw one nurse carrying two children over towards me. One wrapped in blue and one wrapped in pink. And even though I should have been focused on the two healthy children in front of my eyes, my mind was elsewhere.

  Focused on the one nurse running with my last child in her arms.

  “Where’s my other baby girl?” I asked. “I’m supposed to have two baby girls.”

  “She’s going to be just fine, Mr. Walker. Some precautionary measures need to be taken, but I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  “You’re sure? Sorry if I don’t take the word of the nurse who shoved me away from the mother of my children. Is Delilah going to be okay? Is she going to make it?”

  “Mr. Walker, you need to calm down. You have two perfectly healthy children who need the strength of their father right now.”

  I looked down at my baby boy, Aiden. It was the name Delilah had been set on ever since we found out one of them was a boy. And as I looked over at one of my daughters, I could hear the names rolling around in my head.

  But there was one that seemed to suit her. More than any of the others we had picked.

  Charlotte.

  I was looking at Aiden and Charlotte while my third child fought for her life in the NICU and Delilah fought for her life on the table.

  “Let’s go give them a bath. Then we can feed them. How does that sound?” the nurse asked.

  She moved past me and I followed her, my mind blank and my heart thumping in my ears. My throat was clenched with fear, unable to speak as the nurse guided me towards Delilah’s room. Her parents sprung to their feet, each of them taking a child as I collapsed into a chair.

  Then I placed my face in my hands and blinked away my tears.

  Twenty-Six

  Delilah

  My eyes fluttered open as the glaring light of the room pierced my gaze. I could hear the beeping of monitors as I shifted in bed, pain searing through my abdomen. I looked down and saw my toes. A sight I hadn’t beheld in months.

  Then, the crashing memories of the day came flooding back to my mind.

  “Hey look, Mommy’s up.”

  Preston’s voice hit my ears like smooth honey. I propped myself up in bed as a pair of arms hooked underneath mine. I groaned as I sat up, my lips chapped and my throat dry.

  “Here, try this.”

  Daddy. My Daddy was here.

  I felt a straw play at my lips as my eyes tried to adjust. My hand fell onto my stomach. My stomach that had shrank inches upon inches in the span of just a few hours.

  At least, it had felt like a few hours.

  The smooth water fell down my throat, quenching my thirst as I grasped the cup. My father’s hand came down onto my shoulder, massaging it lightly as I looked around the room. I found Preston, his eyes cradling a bundle wrapped in a blue blanket.

  “Aiden,” I said with a whisper.

  “Mhm. And your mother has Charlotte,” he said.

  I looked over at my mother in a corner, a miniature bottle tipped up to my child’s lips. My head was on a swivel, searching for the other child.

  Where the hell was my other daughter?

  “Don’t worry,” Preston said as he laid Aiden into my arms. “Abigail is just fine.” />
  “Abigail?” I asked.

  “Once you see her, I promise it’ll fit,” he said with a grin.

  “Where is she? Why isn’t she here with us?” I asked.

  Aiden nuzzled into my breast, searching for the substance leaking from my nipple as his lips wrapped around my skin. I gasped, feeling my other breast beginning to leak as my mother looked up. She smiled at me as she walked Charlotte over to my arm, positioning her on my other breast as I fed my children.

  There was a light in Preston’s eyes I’d never seen before as he gazed upon the sight.

  “Abigail’s in the NICU. She had a bit of a problem coming out, so they’re running a few tests. But she’s healthy and she’s strong. Just like her mother,” Preston said.

  “Then why is she in the NICU?” I asked.

  “They’re just monitoring her oxygen levels. They have to do it for a certain amount of time for children that don’t cry immediately after being born.”

  “She…she didn’t cry?” I asked.

  “Delilah, I promise you. She’s fine.”

  Preston sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed my hair away. I looked up into the eyes of the most beautiful man I had ever seen, a smile gracing his cheeks. He placed a careful kiss onto my forehead. Hesitant, but warm. I hummed at his touch, not caring who heard or saw as I smiled up at him.

  “I’m so proud of you. You did so well,” he said.

  Then, I heard a camera click in the distance.

  “Sorry,” my mom said. “The moment was just too precious.”

  “That’s okay,” I said with a smile. “Take as many as you want.”

  My mother and father continued to take pictures as I lost myself in Preston’s eyes. The swell of his lips and the strength of his body called to me as I held our children in my arms. I leaned into him, his arm curling around me as his fingers ran through my hair. I gazed up at him with watery eyes, my arms growing tired as I held our children up.

  “Here. Let me help,” he said.

  Preston worked his way behind me, being careful not to jostle my body too much. He slid himself against my back, supporting the whole of my frame as his arms slid underneath mine. He held my arms up as I held our children, the both of us supporting them as they ate. I felt a tear run down my cheek as I looked at what we had done, feeling Preston’s nose nuzzle against the crook of my neck.

  “I love you.”

  I felt him whisper it into my skin like a prayer as I whipped my gaze over to him.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I love you, Delilah Kent.”

  I was rendered speechless as he gently pressed his lips to mine.

  “I love you, too, Preston Walker. So, so much.”

  I was glad my parents were taking pictures of all this. Of these intimate moments and these passionate encounters. I was glad the camera shutters were going off and filling the room with noise. It meant this moment would be captured. Forever sealed into one iconic photograph the moment my life came together. It was the moment our accident morphed into a family, and as I laid there against Preston with his body supporting mine I knew we were going to be okay.

  Just like I wanted, we were going to be a family.

  “I’ve got you,” Preston said as he strengthened his arms underneath mine. “I’ve got you all.”

  And somehow, I knew he was telling me the truth.

  Twenty-Seven

  Preston

  Just as I figured, all three of our children needed a stay in the hospital to gain some weight. Abigail’s oxygen levels were doing fine, but Aiden and Charlotte were slow to tack on the weight necessary to allow us to bring them home. Delilah and I were bundles of nerves for the two weeks they were in the hospital. Delilah was released three days after her cesarean section, but our children were still in the NICU.

  And getting Delilah home to sleep was a challenge.

  “I’m not leaving my children here alone,” she said.

  “But you need rest to recuperate. Yes, you gave birth. But you had major surgery to make that happen. You need sleep,” I said.

  “I’ll sleep in this chair. It pulls out. It fits my entire body now that I’m not a planet.”

  “You need to let me take you home so you can rest properly.”

  “I’m not leaving my children here without their mother, Preston. Now you can suck it up and go home alone, or you can stay with me and be the father I know you want to be.”

  “Me wanting to go home and sleep in my own bed doesn’t make me a bad father. They’re cared for here.”

  “And they’ll be cared for with me at their side,” she said.

  Eventually, I caved. I packed her a suitcase and booked the hotel closest to the hospital our children were in. Sometimes I could get her to go take a nap if I promised to stay with our babies, which meant she would also clean herself up. Her going back to the hotel prompted her to do things like brush her teeth, take a shower, put on fresh clothes.

  The hotel seemed like the only compromise I was going to get, so I ran with it. I packed our bags, set us up in a hotel with a miniature kitchen, stocked the fridge with food, and set it up like home.

  Delilah still wasn’t there as much as I thought she needed, but at least she was showering.

  It took a toll on Delilah, seeing our children in those incubators. And it didn’t do me any favors, either. At least Delilah had the capability of holding them whenever they needed to be fed. She breastfed all three of them on a regular basis with the strength and stamina of a goddess, but I didn’t have anything to contribute. I couldn’t feed them, holding them put them at risk for contagions I was carrying, so I took care of their mother so she could take care of them.

  Delilah and I had a bunch of arguments those first two weeks. From keeping her clean to forcing her to sleep, she argued about it all. It was frustrating and exhausting, and sometimes I wanted to shake some sense into her, but I had to try and see it from her point of view. She was a new mother who couldn’t take her children home, and I would have no idea what kind of impact that was having on her.

  Because I didn’t carry those children for eight months. Because I didn’t have my body split open for them. Because my breasts weren’t producing food for them.

  But finally, after two awful weeks in the NICU, our babies were ready to come home. We were discharged from the hospital and we loaded them up in their newborn carriers, finally able to take them home. Delilah was so happy she was in tears, holding my hand tightly the entire way I drove us home.

  I didn’t want a driver taking us. I wanted to be in control of the vehicle my children were in.

  When we arrived home, my stomach did fucking somersaults. I had a surprise for Delilah in the nursery, but I wasn’t sure how she was going to react to it. I carried Abigail and Charlotte up to our apartment while Delilah carried Aiden, and the five of us pushed through into our new home. It wasn’t new to us, but it was new to them, and it was new for us to have them there. The sunlight streaming through the windows coated our skin, and as we turned for the nursery my legs felt weak.

  “I think we should try to lay them down for naps,” Delilah said. “They all look pretty tired.”

  “Whatever your mother’s intuition says, I’ll follow,” I said.

  We walked into the nursery and Delilah turned on a lone little lamp. It cast a small hue across the room with just enough light for us to see what we were doing. I was preparing Abigail and Charlotte for bed, removing them from their car seat carriers and placing them in their respective cribs. But as I turned to see how Delilah was doing with Aiden, I saw her gaze hooked onto Aiden’s crib.

  And I knew she had found it.

  “Preston?” she asked. “What’s this?”

  She turned around with Aiden in her hands, holding a little black box.

  “Why don’t you open it and see?” I asked.

  She laid Aiden down in his crib, his sleeping body settling into the mattress. Her hands were shaking as she opened the
box, revealing the sparkling diamond ring I had purchased for her. Tears rose to her eyes as she looked up at me, but she didn’t find me staring back at her from above.

  Instead, I had knelt below her, my hand reaching for hers as she gasped.

  “I was going to do this earlier, but you just had to be a drama queen and give birth first,” I said.

  A breathless chuckle fell from her lips as a tear fell upon her cheek.

  “Delilah Kent, you’ve turned my world upside down. A night of selfish passion spiraled into a lifetime of happiness for me, but it still doesn’t feel complete. We have a home. We have our children. But there is something we don’t have yet. Something I don’t have yet.”

  “What…what is that?” she asked.

  “I don’t have my wife,” I said. “And I was hoping you would remedy that.”

  “All you ever had to do is ask,” she said with a whisper.

  “Delilah Kent,” I said as I stood up, “will you marry me?”

  Her lips crashed into mine as she nodded against my skin.

  “Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, Preston. I will most certainly marry you.”

  Wrapping my arms around her, our tongues connected as our children slept soundly around us. I took the box from her hand and plucked the ring from its cradle, sliding it onto her finger. I watched it shine as tears dripped down Delilah’s cheeks, her body shaking as I pulled her back into me. I peppered the top of her head with kisses as I began to sway us, humming a small tune in her ear that would become the song she would sing to our children at night as they tried to get you sleep.

  “You are my Lilah, my only Lilah. You make me happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my Lilah away.”

  Epilogue

  Delilah

  “I’m coming! I’m coming!”

  I ran towards the door as Preston prepared the cake and ice cream in the kitchen. Our home was filled with people. Friends from work and both of our parents. Investors from the board that wanted to spoil our kids and mommy friends I had made who had children around the age of ours. Pizza and ice cream and cake filled the atmosphere as presents continued to pile up in the corner, and I sighed as I looked at the growing mound.