Blessed to be a father of twin boys.

The joys of being a dad of twin boys.

The reality is a guy like me should have produced a litter of children. Like 6 infants latched on to my wife’s right nipple at the same time as she wandered the local mall shopping for Wetzel Pretzels and tulip embroidered purple nightgowns.

When the doc said we were having twins I was the only rational being who believed there must have been a mistake. I believed there should have been at least five or six of those little bastards considering the brutal poker hand life has dealt me and what I have been through. So the announcement of twins was a relief.

I’ll never forget the look on my wife’s face when she was told we were having twins. She said, and I quote “two what?”…I glanced down at her and said “what did you expect babe?” She gazed at me for a half of second in disgust and I knew at that very moment I would never be allowed to touch her boobies again.

If I remember correctly she kicked me in the gonads with her rock solid bunion laced foot. That shit hurt!

So naturally I began to shit spring rolls and chicken chow fun as I tried to play it cool. I was as cool as Donald Trump at a “hooked on phonics” seminar.

The actual pregnancy was great. My wife gained 90lbs and couldn’t fit through our homes door jambs or fasten her seat belt but it was a healthy and stress free nine months for the most part.

She acquired a strange addiction to Cinnamon Toast Crunch and pickles. And when she demanded these items I stopped what I was doing and jumped up like Mike “The Situation” at a sun tan convention. There was no negotiating.


Considering she was having twins and the babies were breached we had a scheduled C section for the delivery. It was perfect. We pulled into the hospital parking lot. Parked our vehicle. Walked in. Signed some papers. Drugged her ass up and it was time to have some babies.

They washed me down like a homeless man attending a high school prom and wrapped me up like I was infected with the measles and contracted a severe case of chicken pox.

So the process began. My wife laid clueless all hopped up on morphine on a vinyl blue table as a sheet separated her from the doctors and

I was trying to be a supportive husband through all of this but in reality I was just a guy dressed like a Minion standing around wondering what the hell I got myself into.

Then it happened. I heard a weep of a child introduced into this world for the very first time. The first breath of air. The doc whipped this fragile new creation of life out of my wife like he was slicing corn beef on St. Paddys Day. It was amazing.

Then I heard the doctor whisper the words any new father dreads. It’s like nails on a chalkboard. “Hey dad, come and see your son and cut the cord”.

Holy fuck. I had no choice but to accept the challenge.

So I ventured around the separating sheet that concealed a situation that no human being should ever be subjected to. If I had to put it into words it would be nothing short of a scene out of “Saving Private Ryan”.

I was naturally curious to see what was taking place so I took a peek. The worst peek I ever took. The first time in my life I wished I was the offspring of Stevie Wonder and Helen Keller!

As I put my arm around the doc and smiled, I attempted to crack a joke while I embraced the arrival of my son. I saw my wife’s pancreas on the operating table and her heart was carefully placed on a bar napkin along with her liver submerged in a red solo cup. Her large intestine was spread out like a tray of spaghetti and meatballs at grandmas house for Sunday dinner.

So I looked at my wife again to confirm she was alive and breathing. This poor womans entire stomach looked as if she took and RPG to the abdomen and was laughing and telling morphine induced  jokes.

Then she asked the question that I was trying to avoid that had no logical answer. She asked me “how’s it going babe?” What?? How’s it going? Your spleen is hung up on the curtain rod. Besides that, things are great hun.

Wasn’t sure how to answer that. Besides the fact your kidneys are mash potatoes and your urethra is now a tourniquet, everything is splendid.

We managed to get through it.

We now are the proud parents of healthy 11 year old twin boys. They are the best.

I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love these boys with everything I have. I also love my wife with every last breath. She is my rock and inspiration! I would be nothing without you and my boys.

4 Replies to “Blessed to be a father of twin boys.”

  1. This is such a cute story, hlir boys are adorable and I love when they come in for hair cuts, their always arguing about somethin,, and your wife,, well she just deserves all the finest if everything in life! Lol,, she must wanna kill you at times 😂

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