The Rabbit Died

July 1, 2010

“The rabbit died,” she whispers into the phone.
Her husband didn’t have to be told, he knew what that meant, there was a bun in the oven!
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dead plush rabbitOK, so NO, I’m not pregnant. That I know of. Yet. But during this two week wait I’ve been thinking a lot about how much we all whine about the two week wait and how lucky we are that it’s only two weeks. Don’t get me wrong – I get as crazy as or crazier than the next woman during this time. I POAS (pee on a stick) more than I should. I ask Dr. Google way too many stupid questions. But geez. What if we didn’t have those sticks to pee on? What if we had to kill a rabbit to find out? What if you’re a member of PETA and you had to kill a rabbit to find out? What would you do? How desperate would you be? What about before the rabbit test? What did you do then? Was life just a constant episode of I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant?

Apparently not. I found this History of the Pregnancy Test. As far as I can tell, pregnancy tests throughout the ages have generally involved peeing on (or in) something. Long ago, it wasn’t sticks – apparently it was wheat or barley. In the Middle Ages some bright (or maybe not so bright?) soul decided that mixing the urine with wine would indicate… something. So Ladies, I propose we all take a moment to thank modern science for those sticks we pee on. And then we can go back to whining about the wait.

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