But not wrong.
Four sacs.
Four heartbeats.
Quadruplets.
I cried.
Then laughed.
Then cried again.
I called Adrian from the parking lot.
No answer.
I sent him:
There are four babies. Please call me.
No reply.
Another message.
Nothing.
Then his divorce attorney contacted mine.
From that point onward, most communication went through offices.
I sent records.
Ultrasounds.
Letters.
Updates.
Later, birth information.
Eventually I received one cold response describing the pregnancy as an “unsupported claim” that Adrian did not wish to discuss further.
So I stopped.
Not immediately.
I tried longer than pride likes remembering.
But eventually you run out of energy.
Especially when you are carrying four babies.
They came early.
Very early.
Twenty-nine weeks.
Ethan first.
Then Lucas.
Then Noah.
Then Miles.
Four sons.
Four incubators.
Four tiny bodies surrounded by tubing, alarms and nurses.
Ethan struggled to breathe.
Lucas had a small brain bleed that thankfully resolved.
