Epilogue

One of the advantages of having a home delivery is that you don't have all that hospital documentation to worry about if you want to be ... um, creative ... with your records. By adding a little "extra" to the midwife's fee, we got to "adjust" the girls's birthdays.

In actuality, the four girls were born over a span of six days, but all four birth certificates read December 25, and we call them "the Christmas quadruplets." I've sworn all the family to secrecy and we like having birthdays to celebrate along with the other holiday festivities.

Before the quads were born, we tossed around ideas for names. We kept a big dry erase board in the downstairs play room where we put down names we liked. Since we wanted the sex of the babies to be birth day surprises, we had lists of boys and girls names. We held off on naming any of them until all four were born in case we wanted to use a set of names (i.e.—Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and D'Artagnan). Some were traditional names, some were ones we just liked, some were family names and some were off the wall.

I wanted to name them Anne, Dorcas, Gillian and Miriam (five geek points if you can name the reference), but Melinda said she wasn't naming anyone "Dorcas"; not that there's anything actually wrong with the name, but it was going to invite ridicule, kind of like naming and American kid Wolfgang.

Leah pushed hard for seasonal names, partly because she likes the Carole King song You've Got a Friend, but we couldn't bring ourselves to name a girl Spring to go along with Winter, Summer and Autumn. Too hippie.

We finally decided to give them elemental (earth, air, fire and water) names: Terra, Tempest, Serafina and Brooke. I honestly don't know who gave birth to which of the kids and quite frankly, I don't care. They are all healthy and one day they will have the world at their feet. The girls mother them all, and I'm not sure if they know which ones are "theirs" but I think I speak for everyone involved when I say that each of the kids are "ours."

Yes, we dress them in matching clothes. And we take lots of pictures. What's the point in having twins, triplets or quads if you're not going to treat them as such? We're putting money aside for college or therapy, whichever costs more.

My seven daughters are already a handful (I mean that in the nicest possible way) which means they will probably all be high-maintenance princesses because—despite our best efforts—we spoil them with love and attention. To compound my troubles, they're all going to be gorgeous, so I already bought a home engraving kit to stencil the names of would-be suitors into bullets for my .44 Magnum.

After the quads were born, Katie and Melinda went back to work while Leah stayed home with me for as much time as she could take off. Then the other two rotated through, using the time they are entitled under the Family and Medical Leave Act so I had some help at home with the kids. They have all cut back on their work and spend a lot of time with our children.

As I look back on where our lives have gone, I have learned a few things:

First of all, sleep is vastly underappreciated until you're not getting any. So is sex. Second, there is nothing more wonderful than the sound of a child's laughter. Third, if you find a woman (or three) who is willing to put up with your snoring and teeth-grinding, keep her (or them). Fourth, you can never tell your children and your spouse(s) you love them too often. Fifth, your kids will be just like you, so whatever hell you gave your parents will come back on you tenfold. Sixth, you can't tell who the kinky people are just by looking at them. And finally, with apologies to Lou Gehrig, I am the luckiest sonofabitch on the face of the earth.

And we're still living happily ever after.