As some of you might recall, February’s embryo transfer was a big to-do. I took a couple days off of work, my mother-in-law, aunt and I all stayed in a hotel in the city and tons of Facebook friends were wishing me love and luck throughout the day as Eric live-posted pictures of me in my surgery cap. It was kind of a circus.

This time it’s quiet. Eric asked if I needed him to come with me (several times), and several times I reassured him not to bother. Wasting a precious vacation day to sit for hours in a waiting room is silly. I can’t explain why, but I’m feeling very calm and relaxed. I remember the night before the last transfer I got a serious bout of insomnia. For some reason, I can’t picure that happening this time (but hey, I could be wrong).

Because I live my life in movie quotes, I just keep hearing one in my head from Jerry Maguire: “They’ve been to the circus, you know what I’m saying? They’ve been to the puppet show and they’ve seen the strings.”

Granted, the eloquent Rod Tidwell is talking about single moms, so it’s a little odd that I choose to relate this particular quote to my situation. But I just keep thinking I’ve gone behind the scenes of getting pregnant. There’s no mystery; there’s no magic. I’m a time-worn, weather-beaten veteran, not a shiny, happy new bride just awaiting her big moment. I’m exhausted. I’m excited, but that excitement is tempered by these past few months of loss, sorrow, regret, renewal and determination. I’m ready to just get on with it and do what needs to be done, no excessive celebration required.

It’s a little bit like a less important version of a second wedding. Everyone already made a big deal about it on the initial go round, and now it feels a little gauche to act like it’s my first time at the rodeo. Plus the “first wedding” was only a couple of months ago, so it’s even worse. I just want to quietly slip away and get it done, then celebrate later when I prove it’s going to work out this time. We’re delaying the reception, because last time it was so heartbreaking to return all the gifts when it ended. Ha, I wasn’t sure if this analogy would pan out, but it totally did. I’m basically getting remarried. I’m a once-married bride trying again. I’m older; I’m wiser. I understand what can happen if my fairy tale dreams don’t come true.

I wasn’t going to take the day off of work, but work insisted that I needed a “day to rest.” I’ll admit that I’m kind of happy I did that. My incredibly sympathetic and caring boss even forbade me to come in Friday, saying I could work from home but must spend the say “with my legs in the air, taking it easy.” Last time after the transfer I walked around the city streets in search of bacon peanut brittle for about 2 hours, and it still worked out. I don’t think bed rest will make a difference, but hey, I’ll take a free work from home day without argument.

Tonight my besties and I got together for a little last hurrah party with a big bottle of wine and some peanut butter brownies. We talked about a lot of things other than what’s happening tomorrow (though we did talk about that, too) and it made me happy. It was nice and relaxing; it was just what I needed, despite the fact that I’m not feeling very anxious.

So that’s all. Getting ready for the puppet show, even though I’ve seen the strings. If I had to describe my feelings at this very moment I would use the following: composed, reflective and contemplative. I’m ready to get on with it, now. I’m waiting for the show to start.