It feels very strange being at home sometimes, as the meaning of 'home' has now shifted so much. I can remember sitting in this exact spot or doing some task from before we had the triplets and I just keep thinking 'if only you knew what was coming!'
I rather fancy that the echoes of the past are layered over each other with the house 'remembering' what came before. As I sit feeding babies at stupid-o-clock I imagine I can see D and I on the sofa watching a late night movie marathon. No travel cot in the corner, no changing mat on the floor. Oh how our lives have changed!
It's poignant to think of the hours spent sat on our bed as I dreamt of the children I never thought I'd have. Crying over every negative test and the conversations we shared on how we hoped we would raise our fictional children.
Then I think of how I tossed and turned in bed with my huge pregnant belly, how I felt their first kicks early one morning and how we played music to my tummy just to watch them dance.
Of the overwhelming and amazing feeling that came from laying my babies on that same bed a few months later and then feeling my whole world tilt on its axis in a giddying way.
Of moving them into their own room and how D and I would lay at night whispering about how we missed them, how odd it felt for the room to be as it was before we had them, but that beyond the bedroom door so much had changed.
They are six months old tomorrow, and I can't say that doesn't just make me a tiny bit weepy. I've had plenty tears of sadness in getting to this point, now these are definitely tears of joy.