Nobody warned me what carrying triplets would do to my body. After a difficult birth, doctors used careful words like « compromised pelvic floor » and « postpartum recovery timeline. »
I used simpler ones.
Nobody warned me what carrying triplets would do.
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On hard days, if I sneezed, laughed too loudly, or lifted a full laundry basket the wrong way, I couldn’t always make it to the bathroom in time. It wasn’t something I chose, or something that happened because I hadn’t taken care of myself.
So I bought discreet protective underwear and wore it on difficult days. I tucked the package under the bathroom towels. Only Richard, my husband, knew it was there.
It wasn’t something I chose.
My husband teased me about the underwear now and then.
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