I became a widower—and had seven days to decide whether I would become a single father of three. My husband, Tim, died suddenly from a heart attack in his sleep while away on a business trip. Our son, Avery, was only eight months old, and our surrogate was eleven weeks pregnant with twins. In the middle of grieving my husband, I had to make an impossible decision about the future of our family. On the morning of Tim’s funeral, I woke up in the dark and thought: Avery just lost his father. If something happens to me, I don’t want him to be alone in this world. That day, during Tim’s eulogy, I told nearly everyone for the first time that our family was still growing—and that twins were coming. I would never judge anyone who made a different decision. But for me, continuing that pregnancy became the best decision I could have made. Avery is Tim’s biological child which is a blessing he’s left behind as they look so much alike, and the girls are mine. All three share the same Brazilian egg...