No really, poke me AGAIN, it's fun!

As you can probably tell by my unusually high posting frequency, I'm on vacation from work! I saw the article included below and it made me chuckl - I can totally relate. It seems like every time I go to the doctor, they need to steal more blood. And I HATE needles, so that makes each appointment that much more enjoyable. The diabetes test last time was probably the most fun - On top of having to give away my blood again, I had to drink a really disgusting bottle of "fruit punch" and sit in the waiting room for an hour before I could release my blood to them. I wonder what's in store for me at our next appointment on Tuesday :) Lyla ~ I would give them all my blood if it would ensure that you will be born a healthy and happy baby ~ but that doesn't mean I won't complain about it :)

"No really, poke me AGAIN, it's fun!"

When you’re pregnant, you’re getting ready to change all the “labels” in your life. You go from “wife” to “mother.” “Childless” to “Mom.” There’s another label they may forget to tell you about: Human pincushion.

I have never been poked with a needle as many times as I have while I was pregnant. It seemed that every time I turned around, someone was telling me they needed this or that tested and, of course, it always needed to be a blood test.

The most annoying test, to me, was the gestational diabetes test. Not only would you find out if you would have to stop consuming that gallon of ice cream every night, but you’d actually have to drink a sugary syrup before having your blood drawn.

The doctors always scared me with this test. They’d hand me a glass bottle with a bunch of directions typed on it and say “See you next month. Make sure to follow the directions.”

Too bad the directions were written by someone who had never met a pregnant woman that worried too much.

“Do not eat for X hours before test. Do not look North while drinking the orange soda. Do not hold your breath for longer than six seconds and please do not think about peeing in the next five hours.”

After you drink the orange soda, you have to make sure to get to the doctor’s office in a certain amount of time for them to do the blood work. From the minute the bottle touched my lips to my entering the doctor’s office, I would keep worrying that I wouldn’t get there in time and I had drunk the drink for nothing.

“I’m here for the glucose test!” I’d scream as I ran in. “I drank the drink exactly one hour and 55 minutes ago and I need someone to draw my blood now or I JUST MIGHT DIE.”

I never did die, nor did I ever miss the time frame given for me to have my blood drawn. I did, however, annoy plenty of nurses due to repeating “Oh no. I think I’m going to faint. I hate this. I’m going to faint. I have bad veins. HURRY THE HECK UP ALREADY.”