My first child was born on Christmas day.
My minute child was born on Thanksgiving.
I thought if I were to have any more children, I already knew everything there was to know. I wasn’t concerned about the toil or even the morning sickness. I enjoyed being pregnant. When I found out I was pregnant with my eighth child, I was cheerful. I was sure this pregnancy would be a breeze. The doctor told me she didn’t have any holidays to correlate with the birth date. Our baby was due on the minute of June. I had some morning sickness at first, however that didn’t entirely bother. By the time I got into my minute trimester, I thought my morning sickness would end, however it didn’t. When I went back to the doctor, she said that every pregnancy was different. This 1 was about to get different since I was carrying twins. The next couple of weeks passed, and I was getting more and more uncomfortable. When May arrived, I was in agony. Living in the south meant I was about to do my eighth trimester in Summer heat. I was hot and sweaty and no matter where we set the thermostat, I couldn’t get enough air conditioning. My fiance bought a portable a/c for our study room, but I still wasn’t comfortable. She was unsure of anything she was doing, because I was never happy with him. The people I was with and I had 2 fans, the portable AC, and the thermostat set at sixty-multiple during the final more than three weeks of my pregnancy. I was bedridden, hot, and not happy with anyone. Even my women kept their distance. Everyone was blissful when our twin ladies were born a month early and not late.