The first few years were exhausting.
There were nights when none of them wanted to sleep.
There were mornings when I had to get three children dressed while also trying to make it to work on time.
I learned how to prepare three lunches.
I learned how to deal with childhood fevers.
I learned how to braid hair, although even after years of practice, I never became particularly good at it.
There were school projects, parent-teacher meetings, birthday parties, doctor visits, arguments over homework, and countless evenings spent wondering whether I was doing enough.
At some point, something unexpected happened.
The girls stopped calling me Uncle Noah.
They started calling me Dad.
I never asked them to.
It simply happened.
And that one word changed the way I looked at everything.
For the next twenty-two years, they became the center of my life.
I worked double shifts when money was tight.
I saved what I could for school supplies and clothes.
I sat beside their beds when they were sick.
I listened to their problems when they were teenagers.
I watched them experience their first friendships, their first heartbreaks, and the many complicated moments that come with growing up.
They were triplets, but they couldn’t have been more different.
Ava was emotional and creative.
Claire was outgoing and always ready to make everyone laugh.
June was quiet, thoughtful, and usually the one who noticed things the others missed.
Raising them wasn’t always easy.
