HEJ, MY LOVE

THEIR FAMILY

The joys of parenthood, Jonas wished to be at home, and he got served.

Having two babies was one thing; having three of the same age was a whole other story. If someone asked Jonas what changed the game, the man would say:

Baby Brezza.

Sierra could not feed all at once; without the milk formula-making device, the house would be a choir of cries.

The nature lover against diapers quickly revised his judgment and dedicated their storage room to the diapers they bought in bulk.

Both parents ran around like headless chickens up and down the bedroom hallway while cradling the babies. Jonas finally found a technique; it wasn't rare to see the man driving around at an ungodly hour with his triplets in the back of his car to make them sleep. The parents didn't have a moment to themselves.

As the days passed, the babies began to reveal their personalities.

"Haven't you ever noticed, Sierra, people named after someone with a tragic tragedy have a miserable life?"

"Really, I've never noticed."

"Anyway, don't ever call your child Cecile. It's old-fashioned."

"I told you, I won't have children."

"Just in case, let me pick a name for you. If it's a boy, call him Gabriel or Adrian. They're handsome most of the time. If it's a girl, call her Malia."

"Where does that come from?"

Cecile shrugged, "I just like how it sounds, either that or Reine [queen]. One can only have a glorious future with such a name."

Joah, the oldest of the twins, only cried when Gabriel, his younger brother, did. On the other hand, Malia was silent, she took huge naps, and when awake, she watched the world. The baby didn't mirror her brother's actions, and she reminded her parents of how Leone was younger.

Leone quickly understood he could not hold his parent's attention hostage like he used to, but he found a new purpose. He was the oldest, and he had to set an example. His parents noticed how protective he was of his siblings, especially of his little sister.

Malia was different from his brothers, and him/ Leone realized it the day he saw her without her diaper. He tapped on his father's arm and pointed, "papa, regarde, le zizi est où? [dad, look, where's the ding-ga-ling].

"Leone, Malia is a girl; she doesn't have that."

Leone touched his forehead. Poor thing, how will she go to the toilet? The boy thought.

Life had another rhythm, and the person who had the most challenging time adapting was Sierra. Here she was in the postpartum period, and unlike her pregnancy, she found nothing exalting about herself. Her hormone level had dropped. She was tired, cranky, and her body, if one could call it that, looked like beaten bread dough.

She wondered if she would ever have a flat stomach again or whether her breasts would hold up a little.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Jonas asked when he found her crying in front of the mirror.

"I look awful."

Jonas opened his mouth to speak, and Sierra lifted her hand, "don't you dare, Jonas. Don't you dare say I'm beautiful right now because I'm not."

"That's your opinion, Sierra. You are gorgeous."

The woman sighed, "gorgeous; look at my stomach and my butt; I feel like melted ice cream."