PART 1 — Welcome Home, Daddy

When Marcus won that luxury cruise through his company, we both cried.

“It’s our dream, Sarah,” he said, holding my hands.

Four months at sea.

Meals we would not have to cook.

Island stops.

A balcony where, according to the brochure, we could watch the Mediterranean turn silver at sunset.

I had never been away from home for anything close to four months.

Neither had Marcus.

The length of the trip alone made it sound like something meant for people whose lives were more expensive than ours.

He showed me a printed letter and kept saying he could hardly believe it.

I believed him.

But two weeks later, my doctor looked at the ultrasound and said, “Triplets.

And you need to rest immediately.”

What followed was a conversation about my blood pressure, a high-risk pregnancy, and a care plan that left no room for a long voyage.

Dr.

Evans explained the restrictions she wanted me to follow and the symptoms that meant I should call or seek urgent care.

I heard the instructions.