Not cool, baby. Not cool.

We spent the 4th of July weekend in Big Bear with my entire family- my parents, sisters, grandparents, uncles and cousins. We broke the news soon after arriving, not because we couldn't wait but because my belly is no longer very good at keeping secrets. The reaction was more than I ever could have hoped for. Watching Papa-to-be play drinking games with my 80 year old grandmother, I realized- this kid is so lucky. Being born into this amazing family will make up for getting stuck with me. 

So, the weekend was great. We barbecued, we (very carefully) jet-skied, we sat on blankets lakeside and watched fireworks. The burden of kept secrets gone, I was able to start really getting excited about the tiny life growing inside of me. But, Sunday, I started bleeding and cramping. After talking to my mom and grandma (who have 9 kids, collectively), I was convinced that it was normal for this early in pregnancy to have a little bit of that. But then, Tuesday afternoon, while in Long Beach visiting Papa-to-be's people, the bleeding got heavy and the pain was enough to scare me and I ended up in the ER at Long Beach Memorial Hospital.

We spent 6 hours in the waiting room, sure we were losing our baby, while I begged someone to let me see a doctor. By 3 in the morning, I was laying on a stretcher while an Ultrasound Tech ran a wand over my belly. She smiled. "You've got an active little one", she said. I finally remembered to breathe. Four days later, I was released from the hospital. Just a little tear in the placenta. Baby's fine. I'm fine. Papa-to-be faired the worst- sleeping on a chair at my bedside for nearly a week. 

I hadn't realized how much I love you already until you scared me like that. Not cool, baby. Not cool.