Nothing felt natural. My body hurt constantly. The babies needed more than I seemed capable of giving. I prepared bottles while holding two infants at once, one on either side, while the third cried from the bouncer as if he already knew he had drawn the short straw.
I survived on instinct and adrenaline. Sleep became something unattainable. Between feedings, I cried alone in the darkness, and eventually my sobs blended with theirs until the sound became constant background noise.
The days blurred together.
I stopped measuring time by rest and started measuring it by survival.
I ignored phone calls because I had nothing left to say. I kept the curtains closed because even sunlight felt unbearable.
One evening, after the twins finally drifted off to sleep against my chest while Ashton fussed nearby, I picked up my phone. I didn’t think about who to call. I just needed another human being to hear my voice. Greg had been Adam’s closest friend.
The second he answered, my voice broke.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know who else to call.”
“Allison?” he said gently. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“I can’t… I don’t know how to do this. I can’t even keep up bottles. I haven’t slept in days. I haven’t eaten anything that isn’t dry cereal… Help me.”
“I’m coming over,” he said simply.
“Greg, you don’t have to — ” I said. “I’m okay. I just had a moment…”
“Alli, I want to,” he said.
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Half an hour later, I opened the door to find him standing there carrying a huge package of diapers in one hand and groceries in the other. He looked uncertain, as though he expected me to turn him away.
Instead, I stepped aside.
“You’re here… You’re actually here,” I said.
“I meant it,” he said, nodding. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
Part of me wondered whether he knew where Adam was.
I looked awful. I hadn’t showered in days. Formula stained my shirt. But Greg never reacted.
“Who’s hungry?” he asked. “Who wants Uncle Greg?”
“Ashton,” I replied. “But he just wanted to be held.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Greg said.
For the first time in days, I finally breathed.
Greg never pressed me about Adam. He didn’t hover over me or treat me with pity. He simply got to work. He fed the babies, carried out the trash, folded mountains of laundry, and handled whatever needed doing.
He brought in the mail and quietly organized the bills without saying a word.
“Go and take a shower, Alli,” he said. “I’m here.”
That night, he slept on the couch. We shared the overnight feedings. Before long, he was balancing a baby on one hip while preparing bottles as though he had done it forever.
A week or two later, I sat beside him on the couch while two babies slept in the bedroom. Ashton was asleep on Greg’s chest, rising and falling with every calm breath.
“You don’t have to keep showing up like this,” I whispered.
“I know,” he said, smiling.
“I’m serious, Greg,” I said. “You didn’t sign up for this.”
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