Meet Kymberli, a middle-school teacher from Georgia who kept this diary of her first pregnancy -- with twins!
Kymberli

Boy, I am just chock full of embarrassing moments! Like some of my other journals, I have to preclude this one with a story for you to all understand why I freaked out so much in week 33. Enjoy -- this is another gut-buster!

Last summer, the tiny city of Hinesville awaited the grand opening of the Super Wal-Mart shopping center. This may not sound like much, but when you live in a city that only has two McDonald's and one movie theater this was hot stuff! The opening was such big news that the Lt. Governor of Georgia (whoever that is) and TV crews were there for the opening ceremony. Anyway, being the silly person that I am, I made bets with everyone that I would be Wal-Mart's first customer, get my picture taken, and my dollar framed. Because of the enormity of the opening, everyone knew that accomplishing that goal would be no easy feat. You all know that I am competitive, so the more people told me that I couldn't do it, that's the more determined I got to be the first customer.



So the grand opening ceremony was set to begin at 7:30 am, and the doors were scheduled to open at 9:00. At 6:00 am, Danielle (my youngest sister), and Delicia (a then 15-year-old who is like my little sister), and I set out to get to Wal-Mart extra early to be sure we were the first people standing in front of the doors. There were already people there, but we had a game plan. The plan was to rush in, go straight to the checkout, grab a pack of gum, and be the first customers. So we waited in 90-degree weather, not caring about the stupid ceremony and anxiously awaiting the doors opening. Finally, after three and a half hours, the doors opened, and Dani, Delicia, and I took off into the store cackling like witches on Halloween. Some dude was at the door handing out free roses to all the women so we grabbed those, and dead ahead was this huge tub of gum. I grabbed a handful, made it to the first register, and slammed it on the conveyor belt thingy. The lady says, "Congratulations, you are our first customer! Let me go get the manager so you can have your picture taken." The three of us started high-fiving each other and laughing, especially me because I had about fifty dollars in bets to collect. We had our picture taken with the manager for the newspaper. Today, on the wall behind the customer service section, there's an 8 x 10 picture of the three of us cheesing with our gum, and it is framed along with the dollar bill I used to pay for it and the receipt I got.

More to the point of this journal, because it was the grand opening, there were all sorts of blue-light specials and free give-aways. We decided to hang around the store and accumulate as much free stuff as we could. The first announcement that came over the intercom was, "Attention Wal-Mart shoppers -- the first 100 people to make it to the pet supply isle will receive a free goldfish!" So naturally, the three of us took off in that direction, power walking to get there quick because we were on the opposite side of the store. By the time we made it there, a ten-minute long line had already accumulated. As we waited it out, we placed bets to see whose goldfish would live the longest, as goldfish are generally known to have a short lifespan. I bought cheap plastic bowls and small packets of food for each of us, and when we went home, we informed everyone of our bets, and they got in on the pool, too! Everyone's money was on Delicia's fish living the longest, since she is probably the most meticulous and attentive of the three of us. My fish was supposed to live the second-longest, and everyone just knew that Danielle's fish would die first, since she's so forgetful that we all wonder how she remembers her own name. Much to everyone's surprise, Delicia's fish bit the big one after only two days, and Danielle's fish croaked just a week after that. My fish won, and I collected another chunk of money after winning that bet, too.

Not only did my fish live, but that thing was a survivor! Of all the pets I have ever had, fish were the only animals that I could never keep alive for a decent amount of time. You can imagine my surprise when I kept my fish alive for a month! To commemorate the event, I got rid of the cheap plastic shack of a fishbowl and bought a nifty five-gallon mansion of a tank with a filter, light, rocks, and plants. I even got bold and bought some goldfish buddies to keep my fish company. Yup, I had my fish movin' on up like the Jeffersons. Up until this point, I didn't bother with giving my fish a name since I always felt like I had him on the brink of death. But now that I had invested so much in him, the least I could do was give him and his new buddies names. Remember that unforgiving sophomoric sense of humor of mine? Well, one of my favorite TV shows is the ridiculously inane "Beavis and Butthead," but for whatever reason the powers that be at MTV decided that the show should come to an end. I was deeply saddened by this (honestly, I was) and to express my love for the show, I named my fish after characters in that show. My Wal-Mart survivor fish was "Beavis," his larger goldfish buddy was "Butthead," his pipsqueak, midget goldfish was named "Stuart," and the big bully algae eater I bought was named "Todd." (Fans of the sick show should easily remember those characters.) So now I had this groovy goldfish condo set up, and it quickly became the visual point of focus in the house. Friends would visit and ask, "Is that the same goldfish you got when Wally World opened? It's still alive?" Yes -- my fish and I were a success, and I proudly boasted at how big my fish had grown and how long they had managed to stay alive.

All of that leads up to the major event of week 33. It was Saturday night, and Mommy Lady and my sisters were over watching movies and hanging out. Frank was in the bedroom, leaving us women in the front of the house watching some chick-flick. I sat on the couch feeling like a beached whale and looking very much like one, too. I was eating cereal, with my bowl resting on my stomach. I had the pregnancy urge to pee really bad and had begun the rocking, shifting, and concentrating that it took for me to get off of my butt. For whatever reason, my eyes rested on the fish tank as the focal point, and my heart plunged when I noticed Beavis floating belly-up at the top of water. I said to Mommy, who was sitting next to the tank, "Oh, my God, Mommy! Is Beavis dead? Tap on the tank! Tap on the tank!" She did, and Beavis sprang to life and swam to the bottom, only to get there, breathe twice, and float listlessly to the top again. All of us sat dumbfounded as we watched Beavis struggle to live. After three more attempts to stay at the bottom of the tank, Beavis took one more breath, floated to the tank, and stayed there for good. "OMIGOD, OMIGOD! BEAVIS IS DEAD, HE'S DEAD!" I yelled, and immediately proceeded to cry at the top of my lungs. I'm not just talking drop a couple of tears and sniff -- I was all out bawling, complete with hyperventilating, moaning, and snot running down my face. My reaction was so drastic and sudden that Mommy and my sisters busted out laughing, and believe it or not, I did, too because I imagined how dumb I must have looked crying like a baby over a dead fish. Don't get me wrong -- I was still crying. It was the weirdest emotion I ever felt. Half of me was truly upset, and the other half of me was in hysterics. Mommy and my sisters were trying so hard not to laugh because they could tell that I was serious, but I was doing this odd laugh/cry/choke combination that only made them laugh harder. After a minute, they got their composure, but I kept crying. Dani wet to tell Frank (who was practicing on his trumpet) what happened so he could come out and comfort me. All of the sudden from the back of the house, we heard Frank play "Taps" in this sad, bleary tone. That immediately rekindled the laughs in Mommy and my sisters, and that cry/laugh/choke thing in me. Keep in mind that all of this started because I had to pee really badly. Add that to fact that I was laughing/crying hysterically and you can only guess what happened next. Yup, I peed all on the couch. I couldn't help it! I tried to lock the urge down with those damn kegels, but the force of my sobs and chuckles was just too much. I yelled, "While you guys are laughing and yuckin' it up, I just peed on mysellllffff... WAAAHHHH!" Upon looking at the darkened fabric around me, they all revved up the chuckles again. I, on the other hand, no longer thought anything was funny and took off for my bathroom. Frank came in laughing behind me, and I whirled around and exclaimed (still hyperventilating and crying), "ONE GOLDFISH ALIVE, HOW IN THE WORLD AM I GONNA TAKE CARE OF TWO BABIES? WAAHHH!" I expected Frank to laugh, but he got a concerned look on his face and said, "You're serious, aren't you? Baby, don't worry. You're gonna be the best mommy ever. Besides, goldfish don't have the same life expectancy that babies do." And with that, he grabbed me and held me until my tears subsided and I was laughing over how suddenly those hormones crept up and ambushed me. God bless Frank. He knew just what I needed.

It seems like all I ever do anymore is pee or poop on myself! I'm telling you all -- the weight from these babies is no joke! I think maybe I should just set up camp in the bathroom until it's time for me to deliver. On an interesting note, Butthead and Stuart died within a week of Beavis' trip down the toilet to that big fishbowl in the sky!

Much love, Kym, Kyra, and JaidenPregnancyAndBaby.com


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