Is it the 12th already?  Wow, this post is a bit late. 

They only sell "safe and sane" fireworks in our town.  Which is really "boring and lame."  We thought about traveling to the nearest city fireworks display but we were not sure how Beebo would handle the loud noises or the crowd of people.  Plus, our neighbors invited us over for a "safe and sane" fireworks party and get together and we decided that was a better decision.  Our wonderful neighbors had a great party all set up including glow sticks for the little kids. 

They started the celebration with the loud BOOMing ones and warned us ahead of time that they might be scary.  But Husband decided to see how Beebo would do with the noise and carried her out to the yard.  After all, worst case scenario, we go home which is right next door. 

Well Beebo LOVED the fireworks.  She smiled and laughed at the loud ones and looked a bit disappointed when the quiet ones went off.  They were all pretty lame, mostly smoke and a bit of sparks.  But it was legal.  We were mighty happy to see a celebration of unknown origin in the sky.  Not sure they were so safe or sane, but they were super pretty and were the traditional "in the air" fireworks. 

Megan also met a new friend.  He was not so impressed with the fireworks.  But is cute as a button and I wanted to

suggest an arranged marriage but thought I might appear kinda bold.  But they did exchange glow sticks.  I think that is a start. 

The first person to tell me how to make this:

Will win a prize.   Maybe I will knit you something.  Or if you want a good prize, maybe I will send you something store bought.  Seriously.  I need this pizza.

It is peanut butter pizza.  I ate three slices at Goofy's Kitchen during our Disneyland stay in November.  I want it.  Now.  The crust is perfect and the peanut butter is warm but not gooey and there was just enough jelly to make it slightly sweet.  I have tried to find a recipe but am undecided as to which is really following the Goofy tradition.  Some say to cook the crust then spread the peanut butter over the warm crust.  Other recipes say to bake the peanut butter right with the crust (which seems icky).  Hmmm.  I knew I should have taken more pictures. 

 Don't make me beg, people.

Beebo loves the stairs.  We open up our new baby gate and allow her to climb them whenever her diaper needs changing because I am lazy and dont want to carry her she needs lots of exercise.  So on the day of the four worded sentence Husband was working on the poo bathroom and his work had drifted down the stairs in the form of pieces of plaster, wood hunks, screws, and a number of other things on which Beebo would love to chew.  So I carried her instead of letting her climb.  She was a bit mad and made a very mad grunt then said, "Go! Diaper! Up! Mama!"  Which I assure you was one sentence regardless of my punctuation. 

The other thing she learned to do this week:

Climb on to the couch.  With no help.  I don't mind the "climbing up" part so much as the "not knowing how to get down part".    She seems to take the "head first crash to the ground" approach.  Effective, but not so smart.

The problem with help is that sometimes it isn't.   

Just look at these ballons from Auntie Mimi!  Not only were they a great idea, but they entertained Beebo for at least 20 minutes at a time.  How many times can you try to place a balloon in to a basket and have it not stay there before you get frustrated?  Beebo's patience is strong.  

And check out my birthday cake!

That is a 100% made from scratch cake from Beebo's Oma.  She even made her own pudding filling.  Pudding, people.  She is one crazy woman.  It was lemon flavored with real lemon zest!   Whoa.  And those flowers on top?  Not flowers at all, but sliced and then dried pineapple.  I want to marry her.  Eating a piece of this for breakfast made me not feel so 30-ish.

I give to you our blob baby.  A heart rate of 170 and a due date of January 30, 2009. 

All is well.

The good news is that being considered a "complicated pregnancy" comes with it a rush of interest from the nurse practitioner and doctor.  I went for my first blood draw this morning to see about my levels of this-and-that. If the levels are increasing when I repeat the blood draw on Friday, I am  still pregnant.  And my doctor is sending me to the same perinatologist  that I saw when pregnant with Beebo.  I am to have my first ultrasound tomorrow.  We are hoping for a heartbeat.   

I thought about deleting the worry laden post below but decided that it is now a part of this pregnancy and to delete it would be denying myself the very raw feelings of true fear.  It is amazing how early a mother can start to worry about their child.

Tomorrow will bring answers.  Sad or Happy.  But they will be answers.

With Beebo's pregnancy I never once had any negative signs that the pregnancy might be over.  But three times before Beebo's pregnancy I did.  Those dreaded signs that sit in my brain and clutter my heart and I almost expected to happen with Beebo but never did.  Those signs that I check for about a million times a day and that make me wonder when it is okay to stop worrying.  The same signs that began again last night and became stronger about an hour ago.  And I am sad.  I did not  tell Husband about Beebo until I had an early ultrasound to confirm the tiny life of a healthy baby.  I did not tell him about her precious possibility for a long 8 1/2 weeks.  I choose to tell him  earlier this time because of Father's Day and because there were no signs of anything other than a really healthy pregnancy.  Until just now. 

And as I went to lay back down in bed behind a sleeping Husband I made a silent wager with the world, with God, with angels, with fairies, with ghosts.  A prayer that no mother who wants to be a mother should ever make.  A prayer that begins with "If it is healthy we want it more than the world wants to spin and  if it is not healthy than take it now, tonight, right now, damn-it, before my heart explodes."  And ends with,"I will not complain about the crappy financial timing and the nausea and the tiredness and the weight gain and the swollen ankles if you let me keep it."  And then you realize that the tears are rolling down your face and there is no way you are going back to sleep. And you get up out of bed and Bailey comes with you.  And you know that she just wanted to pee outside but secretly hope she also wants to lay beside you and offer warmth and comfort.  

Then I realized that I would  have to tell Husband.  I will have to break his heart, too.  And the family, they will need to know.  And the blogisphere.  How stupid for spilling the beans before it was time.  Should have waited for that 8 week mark.  Should have waited for that first appointment.  Stupid Father's Day.  Should have waited for a heartbeat. That's what I did with Beebo.  I  wonder why there are so many babies abused to death and left to die in dumpsters when I am waiting to hold one in my arms. 

I realize that after tonight  it might not matter about a due date and take-home outfit.  It might not matter if it was a girl or boy.  It might not matter about any one of the "when's" because there might not be any.  It might be over.  And just as the three before, I do not know if I should grieve for a life that was and now is not, or if I should push it aside and assume that there was never life.  No heartbeat.  Does that make it better?  And it could be so much worse.  What if I were farther along?  What if  the life were snatched from me at the birth of a baby who I had already grown to love for 9 months?  It could be so much worse. 

And I curse my body.  My body that should be able to do this.  A body that just gives up on me.    I hate to think that there is a tiny heartbeat that is trying to survive despite my body pushing it away.  I hate that thought.  I want you tiny heartbeat.  I want you to not go.  I am so sorry, little one.  So very sorry that my body can not do this.  So sorry. It is not your fault but my own. 

Maybe I will go back to bed and it will all be okay in the morning. Maybe it was just a "scare."  Maybe it is nothing.  Maybe I will go touch Beebo's tiny chest and be so very grateful that I have her.  So very grateful that she is here with us.  And call the doctor in the morning.

Happy Fathers Day, Daddy.  Lets do it again.

Water coming from the ground?  Beebo was in.

Cousin Boo was in.

Cousin Squidge was practically, almost in until she realized that the water was, well... wet. 

And cousin Meiner was decidedly out.  He stuck to the playground.

The water at the park shot up from random metal disks at random times and was super fun to watch them run around and catch the water.  Plus, Beebo learned the meaning of the word random.  As in "you probably don't want to play with those metal disks for too long because water randomly shoots out of them."

whoops.