The Rabbit Dies

July 2, 1999

I've been a little on edge all day today.

Tomorrow is my doctor's appointment and I'll find out if all the pain was worth it. Will the rabbit die? Or not?

In the past I've felt pregnant and wasn't. I haven't felt pregnant and was. I don't feel much of anything right now.

I want so much for the answer to finally be yes that I can taste it.

If it's no, I know that I will rise to the occassion but I will be hugely disappointed. I'm preparing myself for the disappointment already. I figure it's better than getting prematurely excited and then being all that much more disappointed. Pretty fatalistic. I know. But repeated disappointment can do that to a girl.

I don't know that I will reveal the answer, either way, any time soon. You'll just have to keep tuning in. The answer will reveal itself one way or another in coming entries.

If it's no, I don't know if I can go through the process again. The shots, the money, the rushing to the doctor four (at least) times in a 10 day period, then rushing back to the doctor at the precise second with that precious vial of liquid. At least Chuck will kiss me when the doctor is finished.

I say all this now.

If it's no I will probably wait a month and then the month after want to do this all again. The memories of how lousy I've felt, the driving, the pain, the inconvenience will vanish. All for the sake of the quest to concieve. You forget.

Much like how you forget how painful and horrible labor is.

The day after Zoe was born I told Chuck that I was never going to do that again. Then time passes. Memories grow fuzzy and you're right back there.

I hope those words were only a comment on the recent ordeal I'd been through and not prophecy.

Until next time. . .