Monday, November 10, 2014


Uuuuggghhh.  Needles.

Nothing makes me feel more like a child then getting a shot or having my blood drawn.  Because no matter how stoic I seem, or how little I flinch, or how casually I allow a medical professional to stab me in the arm, I hate hate hate it on the inside.  On the inside, I just want to whine that I don't wanna.  No thank you.  Hard pass.

If you can't tell, I got my progesterone checked today.  I've had it checked before, but this time was a little different, because this time I know that monthly progesterone checks are just my life now.  Another fun perk of my monthly drug trips.  And knowing that just made every single part of it seem way more significant, because I knew that I'd be doing them over and over and freaking over.

As I filled out the forms they gave me, I thought, "I bet I'll memorize this sucker before long."

As I waited in an uncomfortable chair for them to call my name, I thought "Why do I have to sit among all these pregnant women?  I am in a flock of pregnant women.  Will the same pregnant women be here every time?  Will I get to watch them get bigger while I remain stubbornly flat?  That will be fun."

As I sat down and offered my veins up for needle-shanking, I thought, "Maybe I will get used to this since I will have to do it so often."

As the needle bit into my vein, I thought, "Probably not if I can't even look or breathe properly.  Can't wait to do this again."

And when the nurse called me out on the not-breathing situation and laughed at me, I thought, "YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH; YOU DON'T KNOW MY LIFE.", but also, "Be nice.  You might see her every time and you don't want her to not like you considering that she wields the stabby needles.  It's probably best to laugh with her.  Do it.  LAUGH."  I faintly chuckled.

And then I got a fun cotton ball and tape badge of honor in the crook of my elbow that I never quite know how long I am supposed to leave on.

In a day or so, they will tell me if I ovulated this month.  They're either going to call any say, "Nope, you're still screwed up!  Chug those drugs, sucker, because they are your only hope!", or they will say, "Yeah, you ovulated.  But it just wasn't good enough, was it?  You can't even get knocked up when your body IS working.  Maybe you just shouldn't be a mother?", OR they will say, "A miracle may have happened.  Stand by."

I'm not putting a lot of hope in that last one.


  1. I don't look or breathe either. I hate it even when it was a blood beta I considered not having it done. Probably cause I knew it'd be negative. It's always negative. I'll hope for good news. The drugs may help. But I know how hard it is to wrap your head around neefing them. Xoxxo

    1. Haha. I wish we could get blood drawn together. It would be terrible... but also a bonding experience?


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