I could have handled having lost one baby.  I know that statistically, it very well could happen.  And when I saw on the ultrasound that there was no heartbeat, I was sad and crushed, but I knew it was a part of life and the gamble of getting pregnant.

But the chances of naturally getting pregnant with twins are small.  And then to lose them before I ever really knew I had them is worse.  I never got to experience those wild fantasies about my babies, what it would be like to have twins, how they would grow up together. I never got to have the hopeful anxiety over having to raise 4 kids, and what I was going to do at home alone with these 4 kids under the age of 4.  I never got to imagine whether or not they would be identical.  I never got to imagine what it would be like to be a part of that elite group of mothers-of-multiples. I didn’t get to have that joy and awe in carrying two lives in my belly.

Because I didn’t know until they were gone.

Last night, I lay in bed crying and clutching my belly, riddled with guilt over my babies, knowing that it would be my last night with them.  The last night I would know them and that I would be their mommy.  The last night that I would be a mother of twins.

Because I am not anymore.  I bleed as though they were never there.  I cry because they always will be.

We then went down to the lobby to decide where we would eat for the night, and I noticed that there was an optician shop attached to the hotel.  My glasses had been bothering me, as the arms were too tight behind my ear and known to give me headaches.  I thought it would be a good idea to get them adjusted.  He adjusted them, but pointed out to me that one of the arms was weak and a little too floppy in the spot where the metal was welded to the plastic.

“See how it wiggles here?  That means it is very close to snapping.  That is a manufacturer’s defect, so you should probably take them back to where you bought them,”

he told me.

“Oh?  Wiggly like this?” I asked, touching my glasses and trying to get a better look through the eyes of a drunk.

Snap.

Oh shit.  My glasses are in two pieces. My only pair for the entire weekend.  My other pair were at home.

“Hmm,” the optician said. “I could put some solvent on those to try and get them to hold together until you can get home, but you’ll have to let them sit flat on a table for a few hours.  Do you think you could handle that?”

“Well, I have my seeing-eye husband with me, so I think I will be ok,” I replied, with as much wit as a semi-intoxicated mother-in-hiding-from-her-children could muster.

So he solved the glasses, I brought them up to our room, and we decided to saunter down to our favourite nacho destination, Julio’s. Of course, I could see nothing.  I was a little off balance from the vino, a little blind from the lack of eye wear, and not walking too well.  Tony thought it would be funny to push me into things, just to test my blindness.  Or gymnast-worthy balance.

Seeing how I was already blind and unable to use my knees properly, I decided to have another drink at Julio’s, along with the most amazing nacho platter I have ever had.  We ate, we laughed, we belched, we plowed through a Mexican fried ice cream in less than 20 seconds.  It was pure awesomeness.  Other than being blind and stuff.  We paid our tab and decided to head over to Chapters, a rather large bookstore that we frequented a lot when we were poor starving students in university.

I walked into Chapters on Tony’s arm, then remembering that I couldn’t see anything more than 10 cm from my face.

“Hey, look at this!” Tony would say, showing me the book he was flipping through.  Ha ha.  I can’t see.  Dumbass.  What the heck was I doing in a bookstore when I couldn’t see anything on the books?  I could hardly make out the labels above the shelves that tell you what section you are in.  Oddly, I ended up in Women’s Studies and Military History.  Fun times.  Seeing how those are not really my passion, I headed to an area where I knew I could have fun: the Thomas train table.

Eventually, Thomas got bored with me.  I sniffed my way around the store, trying to follow the stench of Julio’s farts coming from Tony’s bum.  Eventually, we were reunited, and we walked back to the hotel.

Back in our room, I reached for my glasses, so eager to join the seeing world again.  I went to put them on.

Snap.

Frick on a stick!!

Alright, bring on the tape.  I can rock the geek look if I have to.

Second order of business: sleep.

Will post later after sleeping has occurred.

Now click away!

Answers to any of these are most appreciated. In the comments section. Right below. See? Yeah, you know you wanna.

Hence my being awake at 11:06 pm while the babes sleep.

Does anyone have a cure for that?  ANYONE?

They linger.  They reproduce like crazy. They suck billy goat.

Fortunately, there is a sure fire way to rid yourself of them and have a good time while doing it.

How to get rid of fruit flies:

1. Buy a bottle of Magnotta Vidal Ice Wine from your local liquor store.  It runs about $30-50 per bottle.
2. Pour an ounce or so into a small espresso cup.
3. Leave the cup on counter overnight.
4. Drink rest of Magnotta Vidal Ice Wine.  Play a little Wii Teniis.
5. Wake up completely hung over and sick from overdoing it on the ice wine Wii Tennis and find that fruit flies also enjoy Magnotta Vidal Ice Wine:

Poor buggers.  Just don’t know when to stop.  But, if you have to die at all, drowning in ice wine would probably be right up there on my list of ways to go.