Loving the Manning Triplets: May 2014

Conventional wisdom would tell us that drinking and writing is, in general, a bad idea. Aside from the obvious typos, the emotional regurgitation is difficult to suppress when you’re not in control of all of your faculties. Alas, in my less than clear state of mind, I have decided to plug along and let whatever happens happen.

I am sitting alone in the bed that I typically share with my husband with only a single child sleeping soundly on the other end of the hallway. In the last month, the Manning family has made some heart-wrenching decisions in order to transition from military life to the civilian world. As many of you know, I have spent the last few years serving my country as a dentist in the US Air Force. Now that my commitment has ended, it’s time to be close to family and to begin the next chapter of our lives.

My husband was fortunate to find a job opportunity in Louisville, KY that allows us to be near family for the foreseeable future. The only problem is, the job begins about 6 weeks prior to my commitment with the military ending. This created a logistical nightmare for the Manning family. Working full time and taking care of infant triplets is not a task that I would wish on anyone. In order to avoid the burn-out and sleep deprivation that would occur if one of us kept all three, we made the heavy-hearted decision to divide our family.

Yesterday afternoon, I watched in tears as my husband and two of my children drove away. I have been acting as a single mother of one for a little over 24 hours, and already my life feels like a hollow shell. When I awoke this morning, I got Violet out of bed and changed her diaper as I heated up a bottle. As soon as I put her on the floor, she crawled to Lincoln’s bed, pulled up on the crib slats, and began crying as she plopped herself on the floor. She continued to cry as she crawled over to Keira’s bed and repeated the same check for her sister. I watched in horror as my little girl’s heart broke. She’s never known a life without her brother and sister.

Without thinking, I scooped her up and crumpled up on the floor in tears. We spent the next 10 minutes crying together on the floor, mourning the loss of our family. A good mother probably would have been stronger than me and had the courage to put on a brave face and soothe her daughter. Not me. I felt every ounce of her pain and had no ability to hide it. After we calmed ourselves, she drank her bottle and I poured my morning coffee. According to our nanny, it sounded like we both muddled through our day rather pitifully. Violet was inconsolable all day and I was distant to virtually everyone that I encountered. Apparently, we’re not very good at letting go.

I am counting the days (44) until I’m reunited permanently with the rest of my family. Until then, Violet and I are going to have to learn to be a twosome. It’s funny. I thought that after all the experiences that I’ve had in my 30 plus years of life that I understood heartbreak and disappointment. I didn’t know the half of it until now.