I never imagined the day I would sit in a quiet hospital room in Nairobi, exhausted, sore, overwhelmed, and stare at three sleeping little angels who looked like pieces of my soul carved into flesh.

Two boys. One girl.

Triplets.

My babies.

Every few minutes, the reality would hit me again. I was a mother. I had carried them all these months, carried the ache, the loneliness, the fear, yet nothing prepared me for the way they had arrived and instantly washed all of it away. The boys were ...