Bruce and Roni are your average high-powered New York couple. Bruce is Editor-in-Chief of a film trade magazine, and Roni is a high-powered lawyer about to make partner. Their son, Asher, is closing on his 3-year birthday, and the family manages to stay afloat via what Bruce calls, “the deal,” in which Roni, as the primary bread-winner, earns two-thirds of their household income while, with the help of babysitters, Bruce is primary parent. Having undergone 3 failed pregnancies since Asher’s birth, they are understandably nervous at the 7-week ultrasound at New York Hospital. After 15 minutes of examination, the excruciatingly silent ultrasound doctor drops the bomb by telling the couple that Roni is indeed pregnant… with triplets.
“I Sleep at Red Lights” is Bruce Stockler’s account of maelstrom that ensues when this average high-powered couple becomes the parents of triplets plus one. It recounts the transformations a father undergoes beginning with the shock-inducing revelation that his family is about to triple in size and traversing through an unbearable pregnancy into the surreal and sleepless wonderland that parenting multiple-birth infants must be.
“I Sleep at Red Lights” is Bruce Stockler’s account of maelstrom that ensues when this average high-powered couple becomes the parents of triplets plus one. It recounts the transformations a father undergoes beginning with the shock-inducing revelation that his family is about to triple in size and traversing through an unbearable pregnancy into the surreal and sleepless wonderland that parenting multiple-birth infants must be.
The shock was palpable – even to the reader. I felt for them. I really did. I felt my gut tighten as Dr. Mills delivered the news, “You are carrying triplets.” For Bruce Stockler and his wife Roni, it was like a stun bomb had gone off right under their noses.
“Roni and I stare at each other for a moment, then look around the room, lost and confused, like dogs dropped onto the surface of a strange and dogless planet.”
What follows is 29 weeks of panicked preparation. The couple hides the news from everyone but immediate family, afraid of how the empathetic shock of loved ones will drive their already maxed out stress levels into the stratosphere. At 25 weeks, Bruce describes Roni as “beyond huge and into archaic and obscure Scrabble-level adjectives.” She props herself on a mountain of pillows to deter her acid reflux. She doesn’t sleep, however, and neither does Bruce. And there are still 11 weeks to go before the scheduled C-section.
